The Brass Ring
by wood-u-like-2-no
Summary: Encouraged by friends and family, Finn's journey to find his future begins in earnest, even if he has no idea where it'll take him. Rachel, by contrast, knows exactly where her future is headed but no clue how long it will take or who will be involved. (A/U - S5 as originally intended).
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - "Glee" is the property of the RIB triumverate and FOX Television. This is all for fun and we receive no profit other than the immense joy of sharing our work. Dedicated to Cory Monteith (1982 - 2013) - may he rest in peace.**

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"_So, go get one." _

Like an annoying insect that wouldn't leave him alone, the four words Marley uttered in Mr. Schue's office flitted through his mind. It was on continual play, an unrelenting ten letter sentence that plagued every minute since he'd walked out of McKinley's doors.

_Go get one. _

Pushing his thought aside, Finn grunted as he settled the tire into place on the wheel's bolts. Stepping back, he wiped his forehead with his arm, leaving a trail of grease and dirt. Working at the garage always made Finn sweat, and it wasn't helping that Burt had turned on the heat to counter Lima's winter temperatures. In the summer the doors could be opened to let the air flow through, but in winter you had to keep it all shut if you wanted even semi-comfortable working conditions. The fact he was almost always too warm indoors didn't help matters.

_Go get one. _

He shook his head. Marley was a sweet kid with a great voice, but surprisingly naïve in her suggestion. She'd blurted it out in a way that made it sound like a college degree was as easily attainable as Sour Patch Kids from 7-11. Finn knew, however, it just wasn't that easy. First, the school had to accept you from hundreds of applicants - most of whom he was sure had better grades or qualifications. Secondly was the question of financing. Sure, he worked some long hours at Burt's shop and tucked most of his money away in the bank, but school was tens of thousands of dollars; neither his bank account nor his credit card could cover such an expense. His mom and Burt were doing as much as possible to help Kurt with NYADA, so there was no chance he'd ask them for help. Besides, he'd gotten the impression last year they both felt his future was best served in the shop. After all, he was Assistant Manager now, running the shop when Burt was away at Congress.

No, Marley's suggestion was well-intentioned but uninformed, and as far as he was concerned, her faith in him and his abilities misplaced. It was obvious at Sectionals he wasn't cut out for the teaching part of show choir, and more obvious that Mr. Schuester no longer wanted him anywhere near New Directions. Sure, he'd screwed up by kissing Emma, but it was meant more to comfort her than out of any desire for romance. Either way, however, the damage was done. He'd lost two good friends and his volunteer position as coach of New Directions.

With McKinley High now closed to him, it seemed the tire shop really was his future.

Well, it could be worse. At least he liked fixing cars.

_Go get one. _

"You gonna stare at that tire all day?"

Startled, Finn awoke from his thoughts and snapped his head to see Burt at the hoist next to him. He was looking up under the car and replacing the oil plug on an old Mustang. Finn guessed the make as somewhere in the 1980s, when the Mustang looked like your average sports car instead of the powerful, slick vehicles they'd been remodelled into today. "Sorry?"

Burt chuckled. "Well, you've had the nuts in your hand for a couple minutes now, but all you've done is stare at where they need to go. Just wondering if you're going to finish what you started or leave it for someone else."

Finn's eyes narrowed for a moment, trying to make sense of what his step-father had said. Looking down to his hand, he suddenly realized what Burt was talking about. He pushed aside thoughts of McKinley and began to affix the nuts to the bolts in front of him. "Sorry. Lost in thought."

Burt nodded as he continued with his own repairs. "Penny for them?"

After twisting the nuts tight with a pneumatic wrench, Finn dropped his tool on the side table and shrugged. "Don't really wanna talk about it."

The older man chuckled as he activated the hoist to lower the vehicle he was servicing. "Fine, don't talk. I already know what you're thinking 'bout anyway."

"Uh, no, I really _wasn't_ thinking about Rachel," Finn grumbled quietly, rolling the side table over to the next tire that needed changing.

"Didn't say you were," Burt insisted, holding his hands up defensively. He opened the door to the Mustang and reached inside to pull the lever release for the hood. Once done, he closed the door and moved to the car's front. "But don't act like you haven't been moping around here the last few days. And what you are thinking 'bout is McKinley and how Mr. Schue kicked you to the curb." Burt gave him a pointed look. "Can't say I blame him for that. Men usually take exception to their friends kissing their fiancé."

Finn loosened the nuts on the next tire, unable to hold back a smirk. "You do know I kissed your fiancé every day you were engaged, right?"

Burt rolled his eyes while propping up the hood, even though he had a small smile on his face. "Point is, you can't undo what's happened and you've already apologized. Not your fault Will won't hear it, and for that, I _do_ blame him. There's nothing left for you at McKinley, Finn. Move on."

"I have," Finn said, pulling the old tire off of the car and exchanging it for a new one. "Tires still need fixing, oil still needs changing and you can't be here all the time 'cause of Congress, so yeah, here I am. Gotta make sure you have something to come back to if you're voted out next election, don't I?"

"Well, yeah, the shop's important - won't say it isn't." Burt pulled over one of the pumps to begin filling up the Mustang's engine with clean oil. "But you know, I noticed you're not entirely satisfied with this place. Not like last year, at least."

Finn froze for a moment, wondering what he'd done to tip Burt off about his change in outlook. He showed up for his shifts on time, hadn't been snarky or short with any of the customers, had completed all his repairs on schedule, and maintained the inventory as required. In fact, he'd even reorganized the stock room to be more efficient, clearing out all parts that had sat on the shelves for three or more years. Nothing should have left any doubt about his dedication to the store, and he was starting to panic about whether he was falling short of expectations. "It's...honest, Burt, working here is great. You pay me well for my services and-"

"I'm not saying you're ungrateful Finn. Quite the opposite." He pushed the pump into the oil tank and turned it on before turning to face Finn. "But let's be honest - this isn't what you see yourself doing for the rest of your life."

"I'd never abandon you, Burt," Finn assured him before screwing on the first couple of nuts for the new tire. "I know you might not believe that, given my track record, but I wouldn't. The shop needs me."

"It does," Burt agreed, checking the oil pump briefly before looking up to him again. "Not sure you need the shop, though. I think you've got your sights set on something else."

"I'm fine here. Happy here," he replied, forcing a smile while tightening the rest of the nuts. "There's real work to do here; honest work."

"Anyone with enough training can fix a car, Finn." Burt nodded at seeing the oil levels even out and removed the pump, securing the cap on the engine. "See, during Grease, and at Sectionals, I saw how you inspired those kids. I heard how you brought them together after you lost, even when there was nothing left to stay for. And I saw how those same kids treated you at Mr. Schue's wedding. Tell ya, it takes a special kind of talent to earn the respect of a group of teenagers like that."

Finn shrugged. "It's not like they had a choice. Mr. Schue left me in charge."

"Don't sell yourself short," Burt persisted. "Elementary school kids respect almost all adults naturally, and junior high kids aren't experienced enough to take teachers to task. High school kids, though? They're the jaded ones who don't automatically respond to authority. Most think teachers are all old, stupid and have no idea what the hell they're doing at the front of the class. But, now and then, there's one or two teachers that still manages to reach them, still inspires them to be better, still cares about them reaching their dreams. Teens can tell when a teacher is being genuine instead of just feeding them bullshit, as I'm sure you know." Burt looked at him pointedly for a second time. "It'd be a terrible talent to waste, Finn, 'cause trust me, cars don't give a rat's ass 'bout any of that."

Finn took a deep breath and placed the pneumatic drill down on the side table. He bit his cheek as Burt's comments rolled through his mind. Without question, Burt already knew what Finn was thinking and feeling. Exhaling slowly, Finn crossed his arms and faced his step father. "It's not that easy though. I mean, I need to get a teaching degree first, and I don't wanna waste my time teaching something I hate or don't know, like how Mr. Schue got stuck teaching Spanish. I mean, my favourite subject was lunch," he added, looking dejectedly at the scuffed concrete floor. "Can't really teach that."

"And you've got nothing else to offer?" Burt asked, closing the hood of the Mustang before walking around to the driver's side and climbing behind the wheel. "You love glee and love music; you've already got experience with that. You're also a damn good athlete, no matter what OSU says. You can definitely teach these hopeless kids a thing or two about throwing a football and sinking a three-pointer. And if all else fails, there's always the obvious."

Finn's eyebrows dipped in the middle and he leaned against the nearby support column. "The obvious?"

Burt started the engine of the Mustang. It roared to life, and for added emphasis, he stepped on the gas to rev the engine further. The noise of its increasing revolutions echoed throughout the garage before he let it settle back down to running normally. Once satisfied, Burt pulled the keys out of the ignition and climbed out of the vehicle. "Last I heard, lots of schools have auto shop. I mean, someone's gotta show the kids how to use a wrench, right? Otherwise, who the hell would I hire to replace you?"

With a quick flick of his wrist, Finn watched Burt fling the keys across the space between them. Finn caught them with practiced ease, snatching them out of the air instinctively. He looked down to see them in his hand, the car key reflecting light from one of the nearby lamps. Finn glanced over to Burt. "You want me to do something with these?"

"Wouldn't hurt to take it for a brief test drive. Couple miles oughtta do it – maybe to Lima U and back, or something."

"I didn't think I was allowed to do test drives. Insurance issues, right?"

Burt shrugged and adjusted his ball-cap. "Time to change things up, don't you think? Of course, it's your decision whether you want to or not." His step-father smiled and walked back towards his office, speaking as he did so. "Don't take too long deciding though. Time waits for no man."

Finn stared after his step-father as Burt disappeared into the manager's office. He noticed for the first time that the air seemed to shift, no longer threatening to suffocate him, as though the venting systems were reprogrammed work differently than before. Pocketing the keys, Finn moved on to the next tire that needed replacement. With a few whirls of the drill the nuts were removed and, after a quick jerk of his arms, the old tire also came free. He reached over to retrieve the new one, but hesitated.

His eyes drifted back to the newly repaired Mustang.

He'd never driven a Mustang before.

_Fuck it__,_ he thought. _Time to try something new._

Pulling the keys out of his pocket, he walked over to give it the test drive Burt had suggested.

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**A/N - Hello all. Welcome to _The Brass Ring, _a new collaborative story brought to you by myself and my esteemed colleague / great Skype buddy and soon-to-be-new-mom _igotoextremes_. The purpose of this story is simple - as best as we can write it, this is an A/U of Glee's S5 (and maybe a bit beyond) about what would happen if Finn _had not_ been killed. In the wake of the tragic real-life events influencing this season, we're grateful that fanfic affords us the opportunity to continue our favourite character's story. **** This is how the two of us, together, imagined S5 would have originally proceeded.**

**With respect to timing, this story starts off around "Feud" (4X16) to address some missing scenes relating to Finn's S4 SL, and moves along through what we had hoped to see for our beloved male lead during S5. With any luck we'll portray a fulfilling vision of what might have been for all the characters involved. Some of the story for the NY crew might be different than what's on the show, but hopefully you, as the audience, won't be offended by that. This is, after all, fanfiction and subject simply to our imagination's "what if?".**

**Also, may I say it's been a pleasure brainstorming with my partner, Ja9, and I've really enjoyed the process of bouncing ideas (and scenes) back and forth. Hopefully her kid will sleep lots once born and let her focus a bit on writing, but we'll play it by ear - being a dad I know full well infants don't take their parents' schedule into consideration. Thanks for stepping into this project with me, Ja9!**

**Reviews aren't just appreciated, they're encouraged! :) **


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer - See Chapter 1, if necessary. **_

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_**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**_. "Mind if I come in, coach?"

Finn watched Coach Bieste look up from her desk, a bevy of paperwork with football plays and roster line-ups covering it. She smiled warmly and waved. "Come on in."

He walked into the office, pulled over the guest chair and sat down tentatively, glancing around the office and then outside. She chuckled and put down her pen. "Relax, Hudson. You got kicked away from glee, not banned from the school. If you're visiting me, Will has no say about it."

He blew out a breath and settled down, trying to push his nervousness away. "I don't want to make things uncomfortable for you, Coach. I know you and Mr. Schue are close and-"

"Just because he's angry with you doesn't mean I am, pumpkin. Doesn't mean I'm mad at him, either. I don't get involved in my friends' squabbles." She motioned towards the books and pamphlets he had carried in with him. "What are those?"

"What? Oh!" Finn lifted one of the books from his left arm and put it in front of her. "I...was thinking about something and wanted...well...I guess I wanted your opinion."

Bieste raised an eyebrow before dropping her head. Finn fidgeted nervously, tapping an instinctual drum rhythm on his legs as Bieste continued to read what was in front of her. Finally she looked up and grinned. "Teaching, huh?"

Finn shrugged. "Well...it's an idea. I mean, I loved working with the glee club, especially the new kids. I enjoy figuring out how to help them and, you know, there's a lot of possibilities for employment. And my step-dad said a lot of teachers are gonna be needed soon with all the baby-boomers retiring, whatever a baby-boomer is. I just...what do you think? Should I bother?"

Bieste leaned back in her seat and stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Of course you should bother! Hudson, I wasn't blowing sunshine up your ass when I said you're a natural leader. You've always managed to make people listen, and make them feel comfortable doing so. Those kids in glee? They're nuts about you, especially the newbies. None of them wanted you to go in the first place." The coach handed back the book to Finn. "You seem pretty pumped about this, Finn, which is good to see, but I'm guessing you didn't just come here for my blessing."

Finn shook his head. "No, I…I need a favour. See, to get into Lima U's education program, I need a letter of recommendation. My step-dad can totally write one as my boss at the shop, but I need one from a teacher, too, and, well..."

"You're not comfortable asking Will." Bieste provided for him. It wasn't a question.

"Not right now," Finn admitted sadly, rubbing the back of his neck. "The only other teacher I've had who might do it is Mr. Martinez, but Spanish isn't really my strong suit."

"I'd be honoured to recommend you, Finn. I appreciate you asking." She leaned back in her chair and grinned. "So, is there any subject you want to teach, or are you going for younger kids?"

Finn shook his head. "I might go middle school, but it's not my first choice. I already have experience in high school." He paused, frowning, before looking back at Coach Bieste. "You think I should do phys. ed., or music, or auto shop, or what?"

"All of them, if you can." Her smile widened. "You have any idea how hard it can be to find someone qualified to teach those subjects? If you could teach all of them, you'd be a huge asset for any school that hired you."

"Yeah, but I'd be in school forever, and probably buried under a mountain of debt. Teachers don't make _that _much money. I'd be paying it back for life, or working two jobs, like, forever."

Bieste cocked her head to the side. "It's an investment, Finn. No different than a house or stocks; you're just investing in _yourself_. And the more experience and qualifications you have, the better the pay. You know, you don't need to get all the qualifications right away. You think I just waltzed in here as football coach without upgrading at a few stops along the way? I had to do a lot of night school classes and win a few arm-wrestling tournaments to make it here."

Finn did a double-take at the mention of arm-wrestling tournaments, but decided not to ask. Knowing his luck, Bieste would challenge him to one. He was no slouch in the upper-body strength department but wasn't sure he could win such a contest, even if Bieste was female. Everyone on the wrestling team dismissed Lauren Zizes as a real contender for the very same reason, and she literally wiped the floor with every one of them.

"You should be proud of yourself, Finn. You finally have some direction. That's a good thing."

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, defeated. "Yeah, even if it came almost a year late." He picked at some imaginary lint on his jeans. "If I'd focused and actually thought about this when everyone was telling me to, I might be in New York right now, studying and living with Kurt and still be with..." He swallowed a lump in his throat, remembering with bittersweet clarity his and Rachel's recent, passionate night together in Lima's fanciest hotel, as well as the hollow feeling of waking up the next morning to find all traces of her had vanished save the scent of her perfume in the bed.

"Ah, pumpkin, you really think all kids know right after high school what they wanna do with their lives? Some adults don't know even when they're forty. There's no rule saying you have to figure it out right away." Coach Bieste regarded him with sympathy and her voice went soft. "I know how much you loved your pixie of a girlfriend, Finn. She's a ball of energy with a heart of gold. But maybe you needed to be away from her to really figure out _you_. I see lots of kids get caught up in their relationships; it's kinda normal for teens, so busy looking at the other person they never think to look at themselves."

"I already knew we had to be apart," Finn admitted, clenching his jaw against the regret of letting Rachel go at the train station. "I just...I can't believe I wasted so much time with everything. I mean, my big, future plan at 16 was a football scholarship; I had no idea they were so hard to get. Then it was acting when I barely did any here at school, then the army just because my dad was in it, then I just gave up and stuck myself in Burt's shop. If it wasn't for Artie asking me to help with _Grease_, and Mr. Schue asking me to take over glee I...I never even would have thought of this."

Coach Bieste smirked. "But you _did_, kiddo. And you were doing great with glee club. They almost gave up and you pulled them back together. Now look at them – they're going to Regionals when they thought the year was finished. Will may never say it, but _you_ are the only reason he had a club to come back to." She stood up from her desk and grabbed a clipboard before slipping her whistle's lanyard over her head. "You did your best for New Directions, Finn. Time to worry 'bout yourself now." With that, she nodded and headed out towards the locker room, but kept speaking as she did so. "I'll be happy to write you that letter and get you sitting pretty at Lima U in the fall."

"Uh, well, that's the thing, Coach..." Finn said uneasily, standing and starting after her.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. "What is?"

"I'm applying to start this semester. The application deadline is next week."

"Whoa, rush job!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "That's not a problem, pumpkin'. I'll get you the letter faster than a newborn calf learns to fear the cattle prod."

**XXXXX**

On the day of his interview, Finn put on one of his "teacher" outfits and drove back over to the University of Lima admissions building. After alerting the front-desk secretary to his presence he sat down in the small waiting area, taking in the academic surroundings. It didn't seem much different from high school; students were walking back and forth from classes to classes, lockers lined up along the walls of some hallways, and teachers – _no, 'professors', _he reminded himself – were seen in pairs deep in conversation.

The only real difference was that everything was much bigger. The halls were wider, the classrooms (lecture halls) much larger, and the campus itself stretched across two or three blocks over multiple buildings. The students, while certainly older and more numerous, also seemed much happier. Finn guessed it was because they were all studying what they wanted and not a force-fed state sanctioned curriculum. And as near as he could tell, there didn't seem to be any real bullying or ridiculing here.

College looked…_fun_.

Maybe it was just his imagination, though.

"Finn Hudson?" A petite young woman, who couldn't have been many years out of college herself, appeared and extended her hand. He stood and they shook. "I'm Kate Martin, assistant admissions director for the School of Education. Follow me, please." She turned and walked breezily to her office with Finn trailing behind.

"Have a seat," she invited, motioning to the two chairs opposite her desk while she closed the door.

Finn sat gingerly, trying to shake the weird vibe that reminded him of being in Emma's office. As he sat, he caught a pamphlet behind Kate's head that clearly read _"So You Chose College - Not Minimum Wage."_ It almost made him chuckle until he noticed his admissions file spread out on the desk. A leaden feeling settled into his stomach and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Upon seeing him fidget, Ms. Martin gave him a reassuring smile. "Please don't be nervous. This isn't an interview in the sense it'll affect your admission status, which is determined by your transcript, letter of recommendation, and application essay. _But_ since the spring semester has already started, the admissions director asked me to bring you in to go over a few things."

"O-okay," Finn gulped, trying to relax. He really hoped his pits wouldn't start to sweat uncontrollably in his sports jacket.

"I must say you have, perhaps, the most well-rounded application I've ever seen." She looked down at the pages on her desk. "Quarterback of a championship football team, basketball team captain, co-captain of a national champion show choir, brief stint in the army, part-time job in auto repair..."

Finn couldn't help but grin at the compliment, but was unsure where it would lead.

"I assume your more recent experience volunteering with the school play and coaching show choir is what attracted you to education?" the admissions officer asked.

He exhaled, grateful at having been asked leading questions but wary of his ability to give more than a one-word answer. "Uh, yeah," he began. "I mean, looking back on my high school activities, I think I used a lot of the same skills that teachers need. But directing _Grease_ and coaching glee club made me realize that it was something I could actually…do."

_Crap_, he thought and internally groaned at his answer. _I just admitted that I had no direction or confidence until, like, a month ago. There go my chances. _Not to mention he sounded like Forest Gump as he said those things.

Thankfully, Ms. Martin didn't seem to pick up on it. "It's always refreshing to see a student choose a course of study based on organic, practical experience," she said with an encouraging smile before her face grew more serious and she cleared her throat. "I imagine you're primarily interested in teaching music, but would you be open to other subjects?" She looked at him expectantly.

Finn swallowed. "Um, other areas that come to mind are phys-ed or auto shop, but I understand I need to be prepared to teach a few different subjects to have some prayer of getting a job," he answered with a lighthearted grin.

"Mmm-hmm." She nodded, her brow creased as she wrote something on her legal pad.

"I'd definitely want to stick with middle or high school, though," he added, motivated mostly by a reflex to fill the silence. "It seems like the time when kids need the most guidance and inspiration." His heart clenched at the thought that the teacher who inspired _him_ the most wasn't speaking to him.

"Yes, I see you noted that on your application," she affirmed, glancing at one of the pages in front of her amidst her note-taking.

After another moment of scribbling she handed him a glossy catalog, whose cover displayed the University of Lima logo along with a picture of a classroom setting.

"Because you'd be starting mid-year, your initial courses would consist of general education requirements offered by the College of Arts and Sciences - some basic math, science, humanities, foreign language," she explained. "That's a list of the classes being offered this semester, and you can go online to see the scheduled times and professors teaching them."

Finn nodded, leafing through the stiff pages.

"Most of the 'gen eds' are large lecture-style classes so you shouldn't have a problem with enrollment, even though the term has already started," she went on. "We'd expect you to start on your introductory education classes in the fall, and by the following year you'll need to declare an area of subject concentration in one of the other schools or colleges. Your academic advisor might recommend summer courses if you'd like to catch up to the students who started in the fall, but he or she will explain all of that during your mid-semester meeting. And, naturally, this could all be moot if you're one of the many students who change their major during their first or second year."

Her good-natured grin didn't ease the dizzying feeling from the sheer volume of information thrust at him, and the course catalog suddenly felt like a sack of bricks in his hands. Then she handed him a much smaller pamphlet, the front cover depicting two students conversing happily in a dorm room. "This is information about on-campus housing. I see that you live here in Lima, and there's no telling what room availability will be like at this juncture, but it's something to consider."

An excited chill ran through him at the idea of living in a dorm and having a "typical" college experience, free from the watchful eyes of parents. He still wasn't sure he belonged in school at all, but visions of playing frisbee on a quad, grungy frat parties (with _girls_ at frat parties) and even late-night study sessions in the library appeared in his mind just the same.

"So," Ms. Martin interrupted the tangential reverie. "Do you have any questions for me?"

"Uh, well... any idea when I'll hear about a decision?" he asked, not above adding a sheepish half-smile in the hopes his charm would buy some concrete information. "I guess I'm just eager to get started."

"Of course," Ms. Martin said sympathetically. "I can't imagine it taking more than a few days."

**XXXXX**

"So," Burt said nonchalantly, "how'd it go yesterday?"

Startled by the interruption, Finn turned away from the open hood of the truck and faced his step-father. Burt was clad in a suit, having only stopped by to check in on the shop during a day of community events and meetings, what he often called a 'smile-and-wave' day.

"Hard to tell," Finn replied honestly, idly twirling the wrench in his right hand and looking at the ground. "The admissions counselor was nice, more casual about things than I expected."

"Sounds positive," Burt offered, sipping from his paper cup of coffee.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "But it doesn't change the fact I showed up _after_ the semester started, with a pretty lame high school transcript and no clue about what getting a degree actually involves."

Burt nodded sympathetically. "Well, just keep in mind that there are other schools around here...or not around here," he said pointedly. "If this one doesn't work out, press on. Apply to a few different places for the fall semester."

Finn scoffed quietly. "Yeah, I mean if I apply to every college on the planet one of them is bound to accept me, right?"

"We both know it won't come to that," Burt said, his face turning serious. "Come on! What happened to the guy who led a skeleton-crew football team to the conference championship? Or the one who stepped up to direct a high school play even though he had no experience?" He put his coffee cup down and made sure he held his step-son's gaze before continuing. "You're not some charity case, Finn. Sure the timing of your decision to start college isn't ideal, but any school would be lucky to have you. Maybe it won't be Lima U, but I don't think you'll need to search far and wide for a school interested in a jock who can sing and dance. _And_ fix cars."

Finn smiled when Burt repeated the same description that Kurt had used for him the previous year. His heart warmed at the thought that his family was collectively pulling for him, even after all that had happened in between.

"You're right," he sighed. "I guess I'm trying not to get my hopes up. It sucks to have your future hanging in the balance, you know?"

Burt let out a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, I do. Remember that time I ran for Congress?" Then he looked at his watch and frowned. "Ah crap, I gotta go or I'll be late for dinner with the Kiwanis Club board members. Keep your chin up, kid." With that he offered Finn a supportive pat on the back before retreating towards the front of the shop.

Trying his best to stay busy and avoid dwelling on his impending fate, Finn shook his head to ward off all thoughts of the interview and went back to changing the truck's oil.

No sooner had he unscrewed the oil cap than did his phone blare out Adele's _Rumour Has It_.

Finn frowned as he stared at the pocket it was in. He _never _would have expected to get a call from her so soon after seeing each other at the wedding.

Wiping the grease from his hands, his brow crinkled when he confirmed the familiar (but unexpected, insofar as calling him) number flashing on the screen. "Santana?" he answered tentatively.

He was assaulted by incessant ranting which caused him to pull the phone away from his ear. Despite holding it away, he could hear every word. "I knew it, Finn! I fucking knew it! I knew he wasn't to be trusted. That fucking bastard! To bring that shit into our home? Not a fucking chance I'm putting up with that_ puta masculina_!" Suddenly Santana, as was typical when severely irate, switched to Spanish and proceeded into another tirade Finn had no hope of understanding.

"Hey! _Hey_!" he shouted, keeping the device a good distance away from his face until he heard the voice on the other end quiet down. Cautiously, he brought it back to his ear. "Okay, you're pissed. I get it. What's wrong? And remember, you're going to have to talk a lot quieter, a little slower and preferably not in Spanish if I'm going to understand what the hell you're saying." He figured his former classmate wouldn't be calling him if it wasn't important, and he thought he heard her say Rachel's name, which made any potential emergency particularly pertinent. "Go ahead."

He heard a loud sigh on the other end. "It's Brody. That bastard is using Rachel. Like, I swear to God, literally using Rachel and-"

"Yeah, I'm pretty clear on how he's _using _her," Finn interrupted her, continuing with his repair to distract him from the nausea caused discussing Brody. "From what I understand, though, she's using him for the same thing. Sex-and-the-City and all that shit." He wanted to puke at the thought of Rachel being with that douche in an open relationship. To Finn, 'open relationship' was just a term used by those afraid of commitment. If you were that afraid of committing to the person, why bother with a relationship in the first place? "Thing is, it's consensual. Nothing you or I can do, Santana."

The Latina's voice was sharp with sarcasm. "Yes, I'm sure Rachel consented to put herself in danger, Finn."

Finn pulled his eyes away from the oil pump's readings as Santana's words bounced through his mind. He frowned. "Danger? What danger?"

"I finally figured out what my roommate's so-called job is." Finn could practically hear the quotes around the word 'job' as Santana spoke. "It's how he affords designer clothes, has two hundred cash at all times and why he's never here at night." Her voice was rushed and increasing in volume. Finn gulped - she sounded on the verge of another Spanish-fueled diatribe, and those hurt his ears. "Cater waiter my _ass. _You know what he actually does?"

"Is professional douche-bag an actual job?" Finn chuckled at his own joke before answering seriously, switching off the oil pump and putting it away. "I dunno, freelance model? Rachel told me in October he's, like, three percent body fat and-"

"He's a _prostitute_!"

Finn froze in the process of putting the oil cap back on the tank. He stood to his full height slowly, his mouth falling open and his eyes narrowing, wondering if he'd heard Santana wrong. "What?" he asked disbelievingly.

"You heard me, Frankenteen," Santana spoke without a trace of humour. "He's been banging lonely little milfs on the side and being paid handsomely for his services. It's illegal and dangerous and he's bringing all that crap back home to Rachel. I hope to God she's been safe with Plastic-Man because guaranteed he never told her the truth."

Finn felt his left hand involuntarily ball into a fist as he paced the floor, no longer conscious of his surroundings. Unadulterated fury settled within him and he gnashed his teeth at the thought of just how this asshole had played them all. Being with Rachel in an open relationship infuriated him, but Finn knew there was nothing to be done about it since Rachel agreed to their status. But now Brody was jeopardizing her health and safety without her knowledge, and _that_ was something Finn wouldn't tolerate for any of his friends.

Take a deep breath to combat his increasing rage, he spoke through gritted teeth. "What should we do?" he asked. He was so incensed he could barely think straight much less come up with a plan to get Brody away from Rachel.

Santana spoke with enough inflection Finn could hear an evil smirk. "I'm going to pose as a client in desperate need of some attention, and when he turns the lights on at the hotel room, I'll have him dead-to-rights."

"That's a bit risky, isn't it?" Finn asked, immediately concerned for Santana's safety as well. "We don't know what this dude is capable of. You trick him and he could go postal on your ass."

"Ah, but that's where you come in," Santana crowed with delight. "All 6'3, 200 pounds of you. Brody isn't stupid enough to lay a hand on me with you as my guard dog, and I'm not bringing a leash." Santana spoke her next words seriously. "When can you leave?"

Finn's jaw clenched as he slammed closed the hood of the truck he'd been servicing. "I'll be on the road in thirty."

* * *

**A/N - So, the next chapter might just be me writing and editing as my esteemed colleague, _igotoextremes _currently has her hands full with a new bouncing bundle of joy (or so I assume). My last contact with her was by email where she revealed she'd just been admitted to the hospital. You go, girl! And congrats! :) **

**I hope those who are still so deeply affected by Cory's / Finn's passing will find some solace in this story, one that will try to piece together S5 as originally intended. I find it's helping me; hopefully it'll help others. **

**So please, Cory, rest in peace. Without you, the show can no longer show the story of Finn Hudson, but we at Fanfiction can. **

**Finn, we've got your back. **

**Reviews aren't just appreciated, they're encouraged. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer - See Chapter 1, if necessary. **

* * *

Finn pulled open the door to the hotel room and stepped inside, throwing his coat on the bed with his arms more than his hands. Both his fists felt as if they'd been shattered to pieces. Brody must have been in an accident as a kid and had reconstructive surgery with metal plates, because Finn didn't think his hands had _ever _hurt this much after a fight. True, the end result was satisfying, seeing Brody bleeding from several orifices on that cheesy showbiz-looking mug of his, but it didn't help ease the pain.

"_Mierda__!" _Santana came running over from somewhere else in the room, a worried look on her face. Without even asking permission, she grabbed one of Finn's hands in both of hers and looked at it carefully, tenderly tracing where the skin had split and the bruising had begun to swell. She sighed and shook her head as her eyes came up to meet his. "What the hell did you do to him?"

"Busted his lip," Finn said, wincing as Santana continued inspecting his hands. She cocked an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms, waiting for the rest of it. He hung his head, feeling like a petulant schoolboy. "And...well...maybe...uh...broke his nose, and gave him a black eye...and kinda...dropped him through a table."

The Latina's stared hard at him as her mouth fell open. "The goal was to scare him shitless, Finn, not beat the shit _out_ of him."

"He started it," Finn retorted childishly.

Santana rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the bathroom and sitting him down on the toilet. "Stay here," she commanded before disappearing into the floor's hallway.

Finn swallowed and stared at the wall blankly, his rage finally beginning to subside and leaving exhaustion in its wake. It had been a long ten-hour drive to get to New York, the only breaks being to use the washroom and grab food for the road. After arriving directly at the hotel, he'd met with Santana and they'd finalized their plan before confronting Brody. He knew he was there mostly to make sure Santana would leave unharmed and then just deliver a warning to Brody that if he didn't remove himself from Rachel's life, they would tell her the truth themselves.

"_I love her,"_ Brody had said.

Finn had been hard pressed not to laugh in his face when Brody had uttered those words. The douche didn't have the faintest idea what it took to love Rachel Berry, to sacrifice yourself and your happiness for her sake, to do anything in your power to make sure she stayed true to herself and never surrendered her dreams. No, somehow Brody had done the opposite of 'love' her: he'd convinced her to have a complete makeover, all but repress her inherent personality, and suggested they have an 'open' relationship, allowing them to live together but be with other people sexually. Brody was no more in love with Rachel than he was with his clientele.

Rachel deserved more than a casual living and sleeping arrangement. Finn swore to make sure if it wasn't him, she'd at least be with someone better than himself; someone who could cherish her through all her faults and follies yet still love her for them. She deserved nothing less.

He heard the outside door to the hotel room open with soft creak, and before long Santana was standing before him with a bucket of ice. She quickly put some in a hand towel and wrapped it up, then pressed it against his left hand. Finn clenched his jaw as the cold cubes came in contact with his swollen knuckles, but he didn't complain.

"Now, let's look at your right hand." Without further warning, she yanked his arm over the sink and stuck it in cold, running water. Finn strangled a cry of pain at the water's contact, but Santana brushed it aside. "If you'd used your head a little, you wouldn't be in this mess. A fist fight? What is this, junior high?"

"He grabbed my jacket to keep me from leaving. What the hell was I supposed to do, stay?"

"No," Santana retorted hotly, pulling an alcohol wipe from her bag, "you kick him hard in the shin where he's not expecting it. Your feet are protected in your boots, right? It drops him to the ground in agony and you escape with your hands intact. _Dios Mio!_ Do I have to explain everything?" She sighed and Finn winced as she continued her ministrations, wiping his cuts clean. "How much damage did you cause?"

"Uh," Finn winced again, but this time from the memory of the shambles left in that room. "He threw a lamp at me that missed and shattered against the wall. The coffee table is a write-off, and I kinda kicked over the bar fridge on the way out. Probably a hole in the drywall, too."

Santana raised an eyebrow at him, her face otherwise stoic. Finn blew out a breath of frustration. "'S'okay. I have lots in the bank. I'll totally pay the damage fee on it."

Surprising him, she burst out laughing at his suggestion, pulling some gauze and a tenser bandage from her large satchel. "You think I was dumb enough to reserve these rooms under _my _credit card? I swiped Brody's Visa a week ago and booked them online. When he opens his bill, he's going to get a nice little added 'fuck-you' to cap off our intervention."

Finn shook his head and chuckled. "I swear, Santana, you are evil objectified."

"Personified," Santana corrected with a smile as she wrapped his hand snugly with the tenser, "but thank you. I appreciate the compliment."

Finn nodded and leaned back, letting Santana continue tending to his injuries. He was pretty sure nothing had broken, but he knew his hands would be sore for the next few weeks. Working at the shop would be brutal, but he didn't care. It was worth it for the chance to turn Brody's mug into hamburger. "Don't try to protect me, okay?" Finn blurted out.

"Protect you?" Santana asked, not looking up from where she re-adjusted the bandage. "From what?"

"Brody," Finn said. "The dude knows my name and that I live in Lima. When he presses charges and police show up at your door, looking for you and Rachel, just tell them I did it. I'm ready to face the consequences of my actions."

Santana scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Brody won't press charges, Finn. I make one call to NYPD Vice and he'll be someone's cute little boyfriend faster than he can say 'holding cell'. Prostitution is still illegal in New York and I have lots of evidence against him. And if he _was_ charged, he'd be mired in so many legal fees he'd have no choice but to drop out of NYADA. Smartest thing for him to do now is grab his stuff and run as far away as possible." She chuckled. "Of course, he did try to prevent a 6'3" behemoth from leaving a hotel room, so maybe he's not all that smart."

After securing the bandage with a safety-pin, she filled another towel with ice and pressed it against his right hand. His knuckles were burning enough that he didn't protest the cold compress. Santana stood and pointed to the queen bed on the far side of the room. "You should sleep. You look exhausted. And also like shit."

"Thanks," Finn replied, letting the insult roll off his back. "That's what happens when you go a couple of rounds in a hotel room."

"No," Santana said, throwing back the sheets on both beds, "that's what happens when you wear black from head to toe. I see enough of it on Rachel, so please, dear God, stay true to your stripes; they suit you."

**XXXXX**

"You sure you won't stay longer?" Santana asked over her coffee, both hands delicately holding the cup as she sipped from it. At Santana's suggestion, they went to a small diner not far from the hotel, trying to keep some distance from the loft. They were both hoping Brody would use his brain for once and be there now, clearing his stuff out and forever exiting Rachel's life.

She drank and ate like a real New Yorker now, Finn noticed. After having a drink, she carefully set it down and pulled a small piece of croissant away and ate just the small morsel, leaving the rest of the bun on the plate. A coffee and croissant – that was her big breakfast this morning.

Finn, by contrast, was wolfing down a 'New Yorker' omelette. It had spinach leaves, chicken, tomatoes, jack cheese and then was covered in Hollandaise sauce. To say it was an unusual choice for him was an understatement, but he'd read a travel article once that suggested a tourist should always indulge in local cuisine. He was glad he did; despite the strange ingredients, it was one of the tastiest breakfasts he'd ever had.

To answer Santana's question, Finn shook his head. "I need to get back. Sooner the better."

"Oh? Hot date?" Santana's look was decidedly sceptical. He scoffed and shovelled another bite of eggs in his mouth as she continued. "Seriously, Finn, what's the hurry? The shop will survive without their Assistant Manager for a day, and it's not like New Directions wants your pasty white ass back anytime soon."

He looked up sharply and stopped chewing his mouthful of toast. His question was communicated with a raised eyebrow, causing Santana to hold his gaze evenly. "What, you think I don't know what happens in glee anymore? Your perky little protégé _still_ asks my advice on glee assignments. Thanks so much for pairing me up with Ms. Bulimia Needy-Pants, by the way."

Shrugging, Finn swallowed his food with a sip of juice. Coffee came with the breakfast he'd ordered, but it remained untouched. Finn was sure the brown liquid was taunting him with its vile taste but compelling caffeinated side effects. Looking back to Santana, he smirked. "So, you're saying Marley actually values your advice?"

Santana's mouth dropped open in mock outrage at his insult, causing him to burst out laughing. In one fluid motion she threw her used napkin at him before joining him in his revelry. "I can't believe glee's resident marshmallow man got one on me. You've certainly come a long way from 'ass-less J-Lo'." She smirked and popped another piece of croissant in her mouth. "Seriously though, Kurt and Rachel would love to see you, even if only for an hour or so."

Finn shook his head. "Rachel can't know I was here."

"Why not?' Santana asked, an arm going up in askance. "She'd probably think it was romantic. Her brave knight in black armour charging in on his valiant steed to slay the promiscuous ogre. God, you know Rachel – she _lives _for this kind of shit."

"I do know Rachel," Finn agreed, cutting another piece of omelette with his fork. "Trust me, that's not what she'll think. All she'll see is the jealous ex trying to get between her and the new guy – the high school boyfriend who refused to let her be. I'll just be preventing her mature, New York...whatever the hell it is, because they don't do 'labels'." He used air quotes around the word before stabbing his bite of omelette. He shoved it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed before looking at Santana. "She wants me jealous, that's all."

"And I see she's failing miserably at it, too," Santana sardonically replied around another bite of croissant.

"Ignoring you!" Finn pointed his fork at her briefly before returning to his breakfast. "Point is if Rachel finds out I'm here, it plays right into her hands. She'd probably keep things going with the douche just to spite me; prove she can make her own decisions without my help. And Lima...well, I got something going on there right now."

Santana watched him as he continued to eat, alternating between bites of omelette, pieces of toast and sips of juice. After a too-long moment of silence, Finn glanced back up at her. "What?"

"_Is_ it a hot date?" Santana asked seriously.

He chuckled and shrugged nonchalantly, not bothering to answer. Santana's eyes widened and she leaned over and back-handed him across the shoulder. "Hey!"

"You better tell me you're headed back for a hot date or the next one leaves a bruise. Now, again, why are you so anxious to get back?"

"Why are you so anxious to know?" Finn countered with a lopsided smile.

She paused and drank deeply before putting it back on the table. "Because, believe it or not, you're my friend, and I care about what happens to my friends. And if you ever repeat that to any of our mutual acquaintances, I'll tell all the newbies in glee club about the mailman."

Finn sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Truthfully, he wasn't at all surprised Santana knew about his trick to calm himself in 'heated' situations. She and Quinn were pretty tight in sophomore year of high school, and Finn knew girls talked and shared secrets about _everything_. The number of times Kurt had stunned Finn with knowledge and facts only Rachel had been privy to astonished him, and he'd since learned if he wanted to keep something private, he'd be best served to keep it to himself.

"Now spill," Santana commanded, her voice brooking no argument. "What's got you so excited to head back when you could spend a fabulous day touring the city with yours truly."

He bit the inside of his cheek, wondering if he wanted this information to get back to Kurt and Rachel, but decided in the end that, whether he told Santana or not, they were all bound to find out when his mom and step-dad next spoke to Kurt. That was, of course, if Kurt didn't already know. He shrugged. "I applied to Lima U. Waiting to hear back on acceptance."

"Okay, wait," Santana dropped her croissant and held up a palm to stop him from talking further. "You're the one who decided college wasn't for you and chose the army, giving Rachel up in the process. Now, after all this time, you decided you want college after all? Shit, Finn, why didn't you just come here with Rachel and apply to schools in New York?"

"Because at the time I didn't know what I wanted to do, Santana," Finn explained patiently, pushing his hash browns around on his plate before deciding on a suitable chunk and popping it in his mouth. "It took all the stuff at McKinley for me to find some focus. _Grease _went really well, and I managed to keep glee together even after we lost Sectionals. I have Marley and Jake and Ryder and, hell, even Unique coming up and asking my advice on songs and school stuff all the time, and I _love _answering them. I think I'm pretty good at this. I could make a real difference in kids' lives."

"So, you want to teach? Education degree, right?" After Finn nodded, Santana gestured out the window. "There are plenty of schools here where you can major in that."

"And I'm pretty sure all those schools are full of New York kids who have way better marks and stuff than I do." Finn shook his head. "I'm Lima good, Santana, not New York good."

She scoffed. "I've heard you say some pretty dumb things, Finn, but without a doubt, that is the absolute _stupidest _thing ever. What's your measure of New York good? Brody?"

"Santana-"

"No, seriously, Finn. If Brody is your idea of New York good, you're a bigger moron than I thought. The douche-bag is a prostitute! He thinks everyone who moves to New York needs a bloody makeover. He encouraged Rachel to do a topless scene in a weird student film. The bastard even slept with Rachel's teacher last semester.

Finn eyebrows went up in surprise. "Really?"

"And to top it off, he's the teacher's T.A. Trust me Finn, if guys like him are what you think 'New York good' is all about, you're five times the man any of them are." Santana's voice went low and she leaned forward a little, as though to share a secret. "I accidentally walked into the bathroom as Brody came out of the shower; you're _definitely _five times the man he is."

He grinned at the compliment, but shrugged it off. "There has to be more than just Rachel for me to come here, Santana. If I moved now, it'd be like you said last year – riding the coat-tails of Rachel's success. I love her, but...it's not enough. And I have a shot at Lima U. A real chance to find a solid future. It's too close for me to ignore now."

Santana huffed a derisive breath, unhappy with his answer, but relented and returned to her meagre breakfast. She had another bite of croissant before pointing at him. "You better become the best fucking teacher in the world, because lord knows I'm going to have my hands full looking after your step-brother and elfin princess all by myself."

Finn finally had a sip of his coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste, before smirking at her. "If anyone can do it, Santana, it's you."

**XXXXX**

Arriving home around ten thirty at night, Finn rubbed a hand over his face tiredly as he pushed open the door to the Hudson-Hummel residence. Although he didn't drive nearly as hard back as he had to get there, it was still a long haul between Lima, Ohio and New York City. Hell, just getting out of New York took the better part of an hour. It was definitely an exciting and fun place, but the sheer size of it was almost overwhelming. And the motorists were horrible to those still trying to figure out their way around. He was very thankful for his GPS app.

Surprisingly, both Carole and Burt were sitting in the family room, seemingly waiting for him. They were both obviously ready for bed, each of them in their own house coats and slippers, but usually at this time if they were watching television upstairs in their own bedroom, not on the big screen. "Hey," Finn said, tucking his right hand in the pocket of his coat, hiding the tenser bandage. His left wasn't marked nearly as badly, and after repeated use of ice to get the swelling down, looked about normal.

Carole turned away from the television instantly upon hearing his voice. "Finn!" she said, jumping up giving him a big hug, which he returned one-handed. She stepped back after a moment and ran to the side table. "We were hoping you'd be home earlier," she called out over her shoulder. "Where were you? You didn't answer my text."

"Phone died," Finn answered casually. It was technically true, but it hadn't died until he was just outside Lima's city limits. In truth, he hadn't answered her because he wasn't in any mood for polite mother-son texting. Still, he knew he had to explain his whereabouts, and McKinley wasn't a convenient excuse. "Crashed at Sean's. Haven't seen him in a bit, and he needed help with stuff last night and today."

Carole and Burt both nodded as she reached into the mail basket. He was very lucky to have two trusting parents, since neither of them questioned his excuse. Finn really didn't enjoy lying and or taking advantage of their trust, but was sure they'd both go ballistic if he told them he'd driven to New York and back in the last 36 hours just to scare off Rachel's douche-bag boyfriend - hopefully _ex_-boyfriend by now.

His mom pulled out a thin envelope and handed it to him, the seal for the University of Lima printed in the left corner. "This came for you this morning. We figured you'd want it as soon as possible."

Finn stared at the envelope, leery about accepting it. The one and only time he'd ever received a letter from a college it had destroyed every single dream he had to that moment. Visions of sharing an apartment with Kurt, riding the New York subway and waking up every morning beside Rachel shattered around him, each leftover shard of disappointment stabbing him in the heart.

This time was even more personal. He'd chosen this himself, for himself. Rachel, Kurt and New York had nothing to do with this application. Although he didn't have anyone else relying on his acceptance, he felt as if even more was at stake. If history repeated itself with this letter, he wasn't sure how he'd react.

"Do you want to open it now?" Carole asked, still holding the letter in front of him.

He sighed heavily, then bit his cheek before nodding. "What the hell, right? It's only the rest of my life." Just before he reached for it, Finn realized suddenly his hand was still bandaged in the tenser. He cleared his throat and pushed his hand back in before either Burt or his mom saw it. "You think...maybe you could do it, Mom? Last time I opened one of those, it didn't go so well."

Carole gave him a strange look, but began opening the letter for him. "Superstitious? That's not like you, Finn."

He shrugged, trying to be casual about it all. Carole pulled the envelope apart and flipped open the letter within. A moment later, she had her glasses on and began to read aloud. "Dear Mr. Hudson. We have reviewed your application to our School of Education and are pleased to accept you as a student beginning our spring semester, effective immediately. Should you choose to-"

He didn't hear another word. In a flash, he had his mom in his arms and was giving her the biggest bear hug in the world, lifting her up off her feet. Carole laughed as he spun her once, but then yelped in a worried voice. "Finn! Put me down! You'll break your back."

Finn laughed even harder, but did as she requested and set her back down. She put her hand on his cheek as a tear flowed from her eye. "I knew you'd do it, Finn. You just needed to believe in yourself a little."

He nodded and then accepted a manly hug from Burt, the two embracing only briefly before Burt stepped back and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm proud of you, kid. You tried your best and it paid off. Congratulations."

"Thanks, Burt. It means a lot you guys both believed in me enough to get this far," Finn said. Instinctively, he pulled them both into a group hug, one arm around each of them and squeezing hard.

After pulling away, Finn's grin was met with an equally large smile on Burt's face, but a horrified expression on his mother's. She immediately grabbed his right arm and stared at the tenser bandage before turning to glare at him. "What the hell did you do to your hand?"

Finn groaned in defeat, knowing instantly he was in trouble. Maybe he'd need to make dorm arrangements sooner rather than later.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews being sent. It's truly appreciated, as well as the subscriptions to story and follow tags on both myself and Ja9. You guys are great. **

**The next chapter will probably be a bit of a wait as I need to finish chapter 2 of my other story, and my co-writer is, rightly so, pre-occupied with her little girl. BTW, for those who don't know, _igotoextremes _gave birth on Thursday to a healthy baby girl of 6lbs 13 oz and is currently adjusting to parental life (I'd say it gets easier as they get older, but it doesn't really - the challenges just change in nature). She asked me to convey that she is thoroughly enjoying our collaborative effort and also appreciates all the kind words. **

**Don't worry - Finn's adventures continue next chapter. There might even be a bit of Rachel, too. **

**Reviews aren't just appreciated, they're encouraged. :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer - See Chapter 1, if necessary.**

* * *

Throwing open the door to the loft, Rachel turned and closed it as she stared at her cell phone. It was the eighth time that day she checked to see if somehow she'd missed a message or text from Brody.

Nothing. It had been almost thirteen hours since she'd watched Brody grab the bare essentials of his possessions in the loft and quickly make his escape, stating things weren't working out and he needed his own place. She couldn't understand what had happened to change Brody's mind about them, or at the very least why he felt living together was causing any problems. Desperate for an explanation, she had left two voice mail messages and sent two texts, but they all remained unanswered. Was it something she did or said? Had he found out about her pregnancy scare? Did he meet someone else he'd rather commit to? Rachel had thought things were going fine. Theirs was the perfect arrangement, wasn't it? Living together, sharing each other's lives, but free to be with others when and if either of them desired. It was a modern, mature, adult arrangement miles apart from the neat little high school boxed in relationships to which she had previously subjected herself. She rather liked not being judged because she found another man attractive or wanted to sleep with another person for the night. It was liberating to let go of the possessiveness, jealousy and worry of being physically committed to only one other person and expecting the same in return.

Not that she took much advantage of that freedom. In fact, she'd only done so once. Surely Brody wouldn't be upset about _that_, would he? She knew he'd been with other women several times since he'd moved in. She never took exception to it. Why should she? She still got the part that mattered – the part that cared and encouraged and supported her in her endeavours. That's what was important, wasn't it?

Kurt's voice suddenly shook her from her thoughts, his contralto tone echoing against the bricks walls. "That's _fantastic_! Congratulations, Finn. I'm proud of you!"

The sound of her ex-boyfriend's name washed aside the growing anxiousness of everything Brody related. She frowned, wondering what Kurt was talking about with his step-brother. Tip-toeing cautiously and quietly, she crossed the loft to the curtain that cordoned off his 'room' and peered inside with one eye.

There was Kurt, sitting cross-legged on his bed with his headphones in his ears and staring at his lap-top computer, a huge smile on his face. After a brief pause, he began to laugh. "Of course you'll do well. You have everything they could possibly want. It's a perfect career choice."

_Career choice? _Rachel stood straight in alarm, her mouth agape. Since when had Finn decided on a career choice? That last time they'd been together he'd...well, no, they didn't talk. Not unless one counted moans, gasps of pleasure, swearing and exclamations to deities as 'talking'. Their last real conversation was more of a declaration by him that their respective futures involved being together for the rest of their lives, no matter how long that took who else came between them. She'd never seen him so confident and self-assured and..._God! _The lust in his eyes, persuasive tone of voice combined with his new fit and trim physique practically had her panties melting even before their duet. Add to that their 'dangerous musical chemistry' and there was no way she would have denied him anything that evening. Finn probably could have dragged her to the nearest broom closet - as opposed to his hotel room - and she'd have willingly obliged.

She had thought Brody was confident and self-assured in chasing her; it had felt wonderful to have such an attractive man yearning for her until she'd succumbed to his charm. Finn had, in one night, done what it had taken Brody weeks to do – convince her she was desired, sexy, worthy of love and the only woman he'd want for the rest of his life. The emotions he'd invoked in her were so powerful and consuming it was four nights before she could bring herself to even think of being with Brody. Fortunately Brody was busy working two of those nights and she was rehearsing one of them, so in his mind she'd only denied him the day she'd returned. Rachel didn't think Brody would appreciate knowing the truth. Her night with Finn still lingered in her memory, and she'd be lying to say she didn't often revisit it.

"I'm sure you could get certification for all three, Finn. You already have one under your belt. So, when do you start? Next week?"

_Next week? _Holy shit! Whatever career choice Finn had made, he was moving extremely fast on it. She swallowed as panic embraced her, her heart palpitating as her mind ran though the short list of career choices one could make that didn't necessitate college, and only one was obvious when it came to Finn.

"You'll have to let me know when you're all set up!" Kurt chirped happily, still with a grin on his face. After hearing silence, during which she assumed Finn was talking, Kurt scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. "Forget about Mr. Schue and glee club, Finn. You don't owe either of them anything." More silence before Kurt drew in a breath and spoke. "You really must learn when to _ignore_ that conscience of yours, Finn; there is such a thing as too much honesty." Rachel waited a beat before hearing Kurt again. "No, Finn - you've _already_ apologized. If Mr. Schue still won't talk to you he's being petty. You don't need him or his approval to move on in life. Go after what _you _want."

Wait...what? Mr. Schuester and Finn aren't talking anymore? _Oh no! _Rachel thought, shaking her head sadly as she realized Finn, no doubt, told their glee instructor he'd kissed Ms. Pilsbury. _Of course _he would have told Mr. Schuester the truth. He'd made the costly error with Rachel of _not _telling her the truth about Santana and his virginity, so now was applying the lessons learned from that situation. She felt a sympathetic pang in her heart for him. Despite his best intentions to not repeat his mistakes, this time the situation had backfired and caused a rift between him and his mentor.

Kurt's voice sliced through her thoughts. "Why am I not surprised your celebration involves greasy food, a two-four and Puckerman as company. Just do me a favour and promise not to drive, okay? And say hello to everyone for me. Okay, bye."

Rachel honestly thought she had more time to step away from Kurt's cloth wall, but before she even made a second step, her roommate was pulling aside the curtain to cast a look of derision at her. "If you're trying to master the skill of eavesdropping, Rachel, you'll need a few more lessons in subtlety."

Rachel exhaled loudly and crossed her arms, eyes hardening. One of the first lessons New York taught her was that the best defence was to go on the offensive and catch the other person off guard. "Maybe I wouldn't have to eavesdrop if Finn would just tell me himself what he's up to these days."

"And why should he tell you?" Kurt asked, his tone bordering between accusatory and genuine curiosity.

Rachel's mouth dropped, stunned at the question. "Why? Because I'm his friend, Kurt! At least I thought I was. Ever since the wedding it seems I'm out of the loop when it comes to Finn."

Kurt scoffed before turning away and filling their kettle full of water. "Maybe because you're too busy being in your _own_ loop to pay attention."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rachel snapped.

"Exactly what I said," Kurt returned evenly before putting the kettle on the stove and turning the dial. "You've squirreled yourself back into 'Rachel Berry World' somehow and now assume everyone and everything will fall into line or meet your expectations. Finn, it seems, is supposed to play the role of the unrequited love forever chasing you until you deign to pay him attention."

"That's not true, Kurt."

"Oh? And when in the last month have you tried to call or text Finn? When have you emailed to see how the shop is going or ask about New Directions? Or have you by chance gone quaint and hand written him a letter instead?"

She swallowed and breathed deeply, staring at the floor. In fact, she'd done none of those things, but neither had Finn. She didn't feel she should shoulder all the blame on their current communication breakdown. "Alright, fine, I haven't. But I've been a little busy at NYADA, Kurt, and-"

"And he's been a little busy at the shop," Kurt interrupted her, dropping a tea bag in each of the two cups sitting on the counter. "By the way, he's Assistant Manager now. Runs things when Dad's at Congress."

Rachel frowned and hugged herself. "So...the tire shop? That's his big career choice?"

Kurt snorted, his lip pulling into a remarkable likeness of Finn's own lopsided grin. "You know as well as I do Finn wouldn't be content with the life of a mechanic." He pulled some sugar and cream out of the cupboard and fridge respectively. "His sights are set higher than that."

She stood quietly, watching as Kurt poured over the water from the now boiling kettle and filled the two mugs. Using a spoon, he gently submerged the tea bags to steep them. When it became obvious he wouldn't be forthcoming, she walked over and leaned back against the counter beside him. "May I please know, then, what you two were talking about?"

Kurt glanced at her, a slight smirk on his face, before returning to the tea. "Finn applied to Lima U. He just got his acceptance letter yesterday."

Rachel had never felt such contradictory emotions simultaneously tear through her. Her spirit soared on the clouds with news he was pursuing post secondary studies. She'd always known he was smart enough for college. At the same time, her heart-felt heavy and leaden to hear it was still in Lima, Ohio.

She bit her lip and stared at the floor, unsure how to react. With Finn in college in Lima, this meant their separation was much more permanent. He was setting down yet more roots in his hometown. Nowhere in his future did he seem to consider her and New York, despite his declaration of love at the wedding.

Kurt turned and gently bumped her arm with a full mug of tea just as she liked - sugared and with cream added. Wordlessly, she accepted it and sipped back some of the hot liquid, trying to let it calm her mind. She smiled at Kurt. "Thanks." She sipped some more before deciding to ask her next question. "Did...did Finn say what he's studying? Has he chosen a major?"

Kurt opened the cupboard, replacing the tea and sugar. "Yes."

Waiting, she watched as Kurt next grabbed his tea and walked away, heading back towards his room. Leaving the curtain open, he placed his tea on his bedside table and then sat cross-legged on his bed again, tapping on his open laptop. She crossed the kitchen back towards his room, hugging herself while still holding her tea. "Well? What is he majoring in?"

"Call him and ask." Kurt replied, not looking up from his computer screen.

"Provided he'll even pick up," Rachel lamented with another sip of tea. "It's not like Finn's been terribly forthcoming lately. He hasn't tried to contact me either."

"He wasn't the one who pulled a hit-and-split the night of the wedding," Kurt quipped, still paying attention to his laptop.

Rachel's jaw dropped towards the floor, her eyes widening. "Is _that _what he told you?"

Kurt sighed and closed his laptop, setting it aside and grabbing his tea before facing her. "So, you didn't leave him in the morning without saying goodbye?"

"I'm not the only one you can accuse of that, Kurt. Remember what happened in October?"

"I do," Kurt nodded, his tone softening as he had a drink of his own tea. "But Finn didn't make love to you that night, _twice_, only to run back into the arms of another woman the next day. Rather mixed signals you're sending, don't you think?"

She sighed and gulped back more of her beverage, guilt welling up in her stomach and around her heart. Absently, she wiped a tear from her eye before daring to look back at him. "You know Brody and I have an open relationship. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Not to Brody, perhaps," Kurt said, holding her gaze. "But how do you think it made Finn feel?"

"I never meant to hurt him," she clarified, hugging herself a little tighter. "I just...it doesn't _change _anything, Kurt. He still isn't here in New York and doesn't plan to be anytime soon, if at all. And I'm not going to abandon NYADA and Broadway after all the work I've done to get this far." She took a deep breath before speaking again, breaking eye contact with Kurt as she did so. "Honestly, I'm not sure I could have endured another goodbye with Finn. They always hurt so much."

Kurt gave her a penetrating look, seemingly staring straight into her soul. After a moment, he nodded. "Is that why you're with Brody? To help you forget Finn and the pain he caused?"

"Finn didn't want me, Kurt." Rachel reminded him, her voice hardening to emphasize her point. "He ran away with his tail between his legs before even really trying New York. And don't you dare accuse me of rebounding with Brody. You encouraged it before Finn even showed up here."

"You're right, I did." Kurt admitted quickly, surprising Rachel. He sighed and absently straightened his hair with his free hand. "That was also when we both thought Finn was still in the army and Brody was actually being a gentleman officially courting you. Now he's living here rent-free, sitting naked on our furniture and disappearing in the middle of the night with no explanations. Have you even heard from Brody in the last twelve hours?"

She shook her head, eyes falling again towards the floor. "I've left two voicemail messages and texted him twice. He hasn't answered."

"So you expect your boyfriend to answer your calls and texts when you've done nothing to upset him, but wonder why your ex-boyfriend _doesn't_ call when you're the one who disappeared on him?"

Rachel didn't answer, instead worrying her lip between her teeth. Leave it to Kurt to narrow down into black and white statements what was instead a very convoluted situation with no easy answers. It wasn't as simple as just talking with Finn when she wanted. Yes, she missed their friendship and camaraderie, but there was always much more than that underneath everything they did or said, and circumstances had unfolded such that 'much more' wasn't possible. It was torturous trying to keep all of her love and affection in check and narrow down contact with Finn to straightforward friendship.

Kurt regarded her with sympathy from where he sat, drinking his beverage, before shrugging. "You didn't wait for Finn before you moved on here in New York, Rachel. I don't think you should expect him to wait before he moves on in Lima. If you really want to know what's going on his life, you're going to have to initiate the communication."

She continued to stare at the floor, her thoughts drifting to the worst case scenario. "What if he ignores me again?"

"He won't."

"How can you be sure?"

Kurt smiled and sipped his tea, keeping his eyes locked with hers. "He's not lost anymore."

**XXXXX**

It felt good.

Finn wasn't sure why it felt good. He'd basically just told his mentor, the person who helped him realize his future, the only man other than Burt to ever treat him as a son, to _fuck right off_. Sure, he wasn't so impolite as to actually say those words, but he was sure Mr. Schuester got the message. When Finn dismissed him by jumping on the slip-and-slide and hydroplaning to the other end of the hallway, all to the enthusiastic cheers of his dorm mates, there really wasn't any clearer way to say he wasn't interested in listening.

He'd gone out of his way to apologize. He had admitted his mistake, agreed to participate in glee's dumb idea of a feud mash-up, and then opened his arms to his friend and mentor, hoping to let bygones be bygones and move on into the future as partners. Mr. Schuester, for his part, had summarily insulted, demeaned and dismissed him like he was nothing more than a low-level servant.

Months ago, Finn would have placed all the blame on his own shoulders. In the span of little more than a year, he'd learned he wasn't good enough for college football, wasn't good enough for New York college, wasn't good enough for the army, certainly wasn't good enough for Rachel, wasn't good enough to get New Directions past Sectionals, and now wasn't good enough to be forgiven. Time after time after time he'd been stepped on, kicked and tossed aside.

But then Lima University offered a ray of hope through the dark slide his life seemed to take lately. It had accepted him, _late_, into their School of Education. They _wanted _him. Sure, it cost money, and there were all kinds of rules and guidelines regarding his acceptance, but no more than any other student who applied for late admission. Finally, after over a year of disappointments, something was going right in his life. This was something that he did by himself, for himself, without relying on other people to make decisions for him, and it had boosted his confidence immensely.

Enjoying his newfound self-esteem, it was easy to look down at Mr. Schuester and tell him he wasn't going back. He'd resolved when he moved into dorms he would focus on himself from that point on. For too long had he put everyone else's needs and wants before his own, and that ended now. He had a solid future ahead of him, one where he could actually make a difference. He'd never be famous or rich but the personal rewards would be invaluable. Who knew how many lives he might change, how much hope he might give, or who he would influence? Some of his students might go on to their own fame and fortune, all because he believed in and encouraged them to pursue their passions, just as he was now pursuing his.

Yeah, it felt _really _good.

"So, I'm assuming you still have our swim-wear?"

Finn turned towards the flirty, feminine voice behind him. Standing there was the taller of the two women he'd tricked out of their bikini tops. He tried to keep his eyes focused on her bright blue ones, but it was hard to ignore the glistening, heaving, _bare _breasts on the woman. Her proximity to him was enjoyably close and getting closer every second.

He smiled at her, doing his best to not let his eyes obviously drop to her torso. "Of course I still have them. Safe and sound." He pulled a small corner of the bikini top fabric from the pocket of his shorts, the movement allowing him to get another eyeful of her chest.

"Any chance I might get mine back?" she asked, stepping slightly closer. Briefly she glanced down at her breasts, then up to his eyes. "As you can probably tell, I'm a little cold."

It was practically an _invitation _to look, and Finn figured he'd be very impolite to refuse. He licked his lips as he languidly enjoyed the view of her bosom. Given her flirtatious behaviour, he decided to see how far he could press his luck. "And, if I give it back to you, what will you give me in return? After all, it _was_ your price of admission. I'd hate to have to ask you to leave."

She smirked at him and glanced at the door behind the ironing board. "Is that your room?"

"Yeah."

"Anyone else in there right now?"

Finn raised an eyebrow. "Not that I know of. Why?"

She smiled saucily before bending over and grabbing two beers from the nearby cooler, letting him get a good, long look at her legs and rear end. He clenched his jaw to suppress the groan of appreciation at seeing not only her backside, but also her bare breasts hanging freely as she stayed in that posture for a few seconds. Once she had a beer in each hand, she sashayed towards the door and opened it up. Casting a look over her shoulder, she wiggled her eyebrows once before turning towards him fully. "Give me a minute. After that, I'd really enjoy it if you helped...warm me up." She dragged a beer bottle along her breast line, causing her nipples to harden further, before closing the door.

Finn stared at the closed-door of his room, dumbfounded. Never in his life had any woman been so sexually forward with him. He had to wonder if a camera was set up somewhere by Puck to prank him, the video streaming online so everyone he knew would enjoy a laugh at his expense. He looked around the hallway to see if his friend was eyeing him with a smirk and expecting him to take the bait.

Puck, however, was busy on the other side of the hallway, conversing with three women, all of whom were practically fawning over him. If this was a trick, it wasn't his best friend who'd set it up.

Pulling the iron's electrical cord out of the socket, he again glanced both ways in the hallway before opening the door, and hurrying inside, locking it tight with both the dead-bolt and the chain. His eyes roamed the room until he saw her sitting in his desk chair, legs crossed, and sporting a huge smile.

"Glad you could join me," she said, uncrossing her legs. Finn saw she'd taken the liberty of removing her bikini shorts, as well.

He couldn't believe it. Standing in his room was a beautiful, tall, blond, _naked _woman. It was like a scene in a movie - the type he figured was necessary in a Hollywood college film but never actually happened in real life. Had he won the lottery or something?

She sauntered towards him slowly until she was right in front of him. He swallowed as her hands drifted up his chest and down his arms to his wrists. "Am I dreaming?" he asked.

In response, she took his hand, opened it, and then placed his palm on her hip. With her hand over-top and guiding him, she brought it up until it rested directly on her breast. She gasped sharply before leaning in closer. "Does this feel like a dream?"

He shuddered as he felt the curve of her breast and her nipple against his skin. "Is...is that a trick question?"

She chuckled and stepped into his embrace, her lips moving along his neck and up towards his ear. "Are we going to talk, or are you going to help me warm up?"

Finn didn't really need to think twice about _that_ question.

**XXXXX**

He awoke the next morning to the sound of running water in his shower, the bikini of the girl he'd been with hanging neatly on his chair. Replaying the events from the night before, he realized in that moment he'd had sex with a woman whose name he didn't even bother to ask. Not that she'd asked his either, but without even knowing that basic piece of information, the entire experience seemed kind of...empty.

Not that he hadn't enjoyed it - it was probably the most enjoyable 'empty' experience he'd ever had. Sure, he'd had a similar encounter with Santana years ago, but back then had absolutely no idea what he was doing, and Santana seemed a million miles away thinking of something else. This time, at least, he had some idea on how to please a lady, and this woman had been as eagerly involved as he was.

But still, it seemed impolite and impersonal to not even ask for her name, especially considering the nature of their activities.

His cell phone vibrated twice before stopping completely, indicating a new text message. He reached over and thumbed it, wondering who it could be.

Santana Lopez.

_Think of the devil, _Finn thought.

Pressing with his index finger, the message flashed onscreen. It was only five words long, but they were the best five words he'd read in a long time.

***They broke up. He's gone.***

Relief poured through him and he felt a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. He pumped his fist once, silently, to give action to his sense of triumph. It had been a long time since he hadn't had to worry about Rachel and the douche-bag getting closer and possibly more permanent in their relationship. Even though she'd willingly spent the night with him and didn't contradict him when he'd said they were endgame, he honestly couldn't say she wouldn't change her mind. Unlike Brody, he wasn't three percent body fat or a Broadway performer. True, he wasn't a prostitute, either, but as far as common interests went, Rachel shared many more with Brody than himself.

Thinking about Rachel, however, had him realize with clarity what exactly he'd just done with...what's-her-name. He swallowed as the leaden feeling of guilt settled into his stomach. A month ago, he'd made love tenderly and gently with Rachel - _twice - a_nd now, after coming to college, had forgotten entirely about the woman he cherished most to have hot, wild, _empty _sex with some nameless college girl.

Definitely _not _his shining moment in the sun.

Discomforted by his thoughts, he quickly pulled on some pajama pants and a t-shirt. He glanced at the bathroom door, still hearing the shower going full blast, and realized that other than her bikini, the woman he'd been with had no clothes. Obligated to at least give her a means to walk back to her own dorm unit comfortably (it was he who insisted she surrender her bikini top, after all) he pulled out a pair of tie-up gym shorts with a well-worn hoodie. After scribbling a note she could borrow the clothes to get home and give them back later, he exited the room to give her some privacy and headed towards the common-area's kitchen.

All he had to do was turn into the kitchen's doorway and he heard a lone person applauding. "Yo, Finnster in _da house_!"

At the table sat Puck, still clapping his hands, before him a half-eaten bowl of cereal. He sported a shit-eating grin on his face. "Trying to get rid of the Finnocence tag, aren't you?"

Finn rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment before moving over to the fridge. "It wasn't exactly planned, you know."

"No shit, Sherlock," Puck said before shovelling another mouthful of Rice Krispies between his lips. He chewed a couple of times before continuing. "That's the beauty of college. Just grab the nearest random and proceed to drown in lady-town to turn those frowns upside-down."

Finn shook his head as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, opened it up and drank the first third of it in one swig. After feeling his thirst somewhat quenched, he leaned back and eyed his friend. "Sorry I kicked you out, dude."

"You kidding?" Puck shot him a disbelieving look. "You think I can't find another bed to crash in for the night, or another room-mate? 'Course, I wasn't insisting she sleep on the bottom, if you know what I mean. I'm just glad you finally saw some action. And pretty _fine _looking action she was, I might add."

"Yeah, she's drop-dead gorgeous, but..." Finn shrugged. "I dunno, man. Still feel kinda wrong about it all."

Puck rolled his eyes and almost threw his spoon back into the cereal bowl. "She's the one asked for the bearded blood sausage all night long and now you're feeling guilty 'bout it? I swear to God, if the next words out of your mouth include Rachel or Berry, I'm gonna-"

"I'm _in love _with her, Puck!" Finn explained patiently, as though to a child.

For his part, Puck acted as expected by groaning and collapsing his head into his arms on the table, pretending to weep. "Where did I go wrong? I thought I taught him better."

"It's just...I know my future is with Rachel. I _know _we're going to wind up married. And I just turned around and...and..._forgot _about it with this woman last night. It's like I cheated on her."

Puck shot up, looking at him as though he'd grown a third head. "What, you guys engaged again? Did you get married instead of Mr. Schue at that wedding?" Puck pointed at him. "Dude, _she's_ the one who ran back to Broadway Billy."

"Brody."

"Whatever. Douche's name ain't important because anyone at that reception could see Berry's totally fuckin' smitten with _you_. Some things never change." He got up from the table and walked over to Finn, leaning with one arm against the wall beside him. "Tell me straight, bro: you think things with Rachel will work out eventually?"

Finn took another sip of water and stared hard at the wall across from him, turning the question over in his mind. After several seconds of contemplation, he nodded. "Sooner or later it's bound to, yeah."

Puck slapped him across the shoulder. "Then what're you worried about? While she's getting her rocks off with Masterpiece Theatre, go have your fun too. You're not beholden to her so go live a little."

"She's not with Brody anymore, though." Finn smirked at the thought. "They just broke up."

"Yeah? That's cool, but doesn't change things for you, does it? Berry's still in New York and not dating you, meaning you're free to be with whoever, whenever. Meanwhile you're lamenting how you danced the mattress jig with maybe the hottest chick on campus? Get a grip, man! Know how many guys would like to tap that?"

"Yeah, I know and I get all that. Doesn't change how I feel though."

"Well giving chicks the blanket drill doesn't have to be a regular thing," Puck crashed back down at the table and ate more of his cereal. "Not like you went looking for it. But it's college. It's normal. It happens. Enjoy it for what it is, especially since you're single and it fell right in your lap."

There was some truth in Puck's words, Finn thought. He'd heard several stories about college that included instances of casual sex, often the same way it happened to him the night before. Provided protection was used and neither person hurt, what was the harm? And despite knowing he'd never love another woman the way he loved Rachel, he couldn't have her – at least not now. Wasn't there some expression about that? If you can't be with the one you love, go be another one's lover... or something?

'What's-her-name' certainly hadn't complained last night. Thankfully, she hadn't insisted on a cheeseburger run afterwards, either.

"Want some coffee, dude?" Puck asked, drinking the cereal milk from the bowl then tossing it and his spoon in the sink for later washing.

Finn shook his head. "Nah, need to work myself up to that, man. Maybe I'll try some with lunch." Finn checked his watch and figured his mystery lady was probably done in the shower and had headed home. He stood from the counter. "Halo tonight?"

"You kidding? I managed to score us a spot on the guest list at the biggest fraternity on campus. Tonight's their house party. Gonna be stellar!" Puck collapsed on the leather couch set up on the other side of the common room. "Think I'll check The Score before trying to score again myself."

Finn barked a short laugh at his friend before waving and walking back towards his room. His friend had a one track mind, which the college environment only seemed to further encourage. Still, a frat party sounded like fun. It was Saturday, so no chance he was doing any homework anyway. Besides, he just started classes. His professors were still fine with him catching up.

Getting to his dorm unit, he listened for a few moments to see if it was still occupied, but no sound of running water came through. Assuming everything was safe, he walked in.

His guest still hadn't left.

In fact, she hadn't gotten dressed, either. Nor had she bothered using a towel as her skin was glistening from head to toe.

Wet and lying buck naked on his bed, she was underneath his sheets from the waist down but completely exposed above her hips. Finn unconsciously drank in the sight of her and felt himself stir below the belt line. She smiled upon seeing him and rolled to her left side, propping her head on her hand. The water reflected sunlight on her skin, further enticing him. "Hey! I was wondering if you might be interested in round two. I rather enjoyed round one myself, and I don't have anywhere to be until this afternoon." She patted the bed beside her. "Care to join me?"

Finn pursed his lips, wondering if he should partake of any further..._sessions_...with her. He had certainly enjoyed himself last night, but could he keep this up with Rachel still in the back of his mind?

_Go live a little! _

It was a surprisingly easy question to answer. Still, he didn't want to seem rude and vowed to make 'round two' more personable. He walked over and sat down where she patted the bed. "What's your name?" Finn asked. "Don't think I got it last night."

She smirked. "Courtney. You?"

"Finn. Nice to meet you, by the way." He offered his hand to shake hers.

She laughed richly and shook his hand once before pulling him down on top of her, making obvious what exactly her intentions were. "Less talk, more action," she whispered into his ear before nibbling on it.

Well, he _tried _to be polite. He couldn't help it if she wasn't that interested, could he?

_Love the one you're with, _he thought, the correct lyrics suddenly clicking in his mind as Courtney pulled him fully on the bed.

* * *

**A/N - To anyone who's wondering, Ja9 thanks everyone for their well wishes and congratulations on her new 'mom' status. She and baby are still doing well and adjusting to life as two separate people with no strings (cords) attached. **

**As always, we want to thank you all for enjoying this A/U version of "Finn Lives". Next chapter should actually delve into more 'unknown' territory as we're about to get into stuff we thought would be seen beginning S5 instead of what we actually got. And then from there...who knows? Hopefully though, you'll all stick around to find out. :) **

**Thanks you so much for all the reviews, subscriptions and alerts you've given us! It's very appreciated. As always, Ja9, it's a pleasure sharing this with you and bouncing ideas around. I imagine you're itching to get back to the keyboard, and I'm sure in time you will. **

**Reviews aren't just appreciated, they're encouraged! :) **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer - See Chapter 1, if necessary. **

* * *

Finn peered at the printout of the note left in his email as he got off the elevator. It was marked 'important' with a red-flag, and sent straight to him from the Department Chair. She had requested a meeting with him first thing in the morning before his classes commenced. Fortunately, classes today didn't start until 9:30, so his summons wasn't for an unreasonable time. Last year he was at McKinley by 8:15 in the morning, and he lived a lot further away than the two block walk between his dorms and the administration buildings.

Approaching the door marked "Allison Allister, Chairperson - Department of Music & Arts Education," Finn took a deep breath and knocked.

After a moment the door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman with long, wispy, gray-streaked brown hair and dressed in a flowing tie-dyed skirt with a peasant top. "Finn Hudson," she said with a wide grin. "Come in, please."

He followed her into the office and sat down, noting the artsy knickknacks adorning her desk and the musical posters on the walls along with Ms. Allister's degrees and awards. The posters included the original bills for _Wicked_, _West Side Story, Phantom of the Opera, _and, surprisingly, _The_ _Book of Mormon_. Finn almost smiled at the last one, knowing (through Rachel) it was actually written by the same guys who created _South Park_ on TV, but his smile disappeared when he noticed one of the degrees on the wall was from Julliard. Obviously, this woman had impressive credentials of her own.

"So, I know you joined us a little late this semester," she said, silently motioning towards him to sit in her guest chair. He did so, but kept his posture straight and rigid, feeling very insignificant. "How's everything going?"

Finn cleared his throat, not expecting her to get right into such questions without some introductory banter. Maybe that was more a high school teacher than college professor thing, though. "It's all right. I'm still catching up in Intro Psych and my Writing 101 seminar, but I'll get there." He felt a little twinge of guilt at having put fun ahead of schoolwork a few times, but it hardly seemed like he was the only student who often did so.

"That's to be expected, but I'm sure you'll soon be on equal footing with everyone else." Ms. Allister smiled warmly. "After you've gotten your feet wet with your general-education requirements, you'll begin your introductory coursework in the School of Education next semester before moving on to the more specialized upper-level courses, plus a semester of student teaching your senior year."

She handed him a sheet with the names of classes on it, organized by subject and academic level, giving him a minute to study it. He instinctively gulped at the names of some of the classes - Educating Global Citizens, Civic Context of Education, Theory and Practice of Peer Counseling, etc. Comfort came when he found the short list of courses in the School of Fine Arts recommended for music education majors, including Introduction to Music Theory, Fundamentals of Conducting, and Teaching Music in Junior and Senior High School. _Those_ he certainly looked forward to and felt equipped to handle.

"Are you still coaching the McKinley High School show choir?" she asked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"I, uh, no," he sputtered. "Their permanent advisor came back from leave, so..."

Ms. Allister nodded in understanding. "I only ask because I'd like to offer you elective course credit for your work with them, as well as for directing that production of _Grease_ last semester. And for working there this semester, were you to continue."

Finn's mouth set into a thoughtful frown as he considered that option. "I'd have to see if they still need me around, with their regular coach being back and all." _And if he and I can stand to be in the same room_, he added mentally. Still, Mr. Schuester did seek him out at the dorms recently, so maybe there was a chance he could work his way back to McKinley. Anything that gave him credit towards college, and didn't cost yet more tuition fees, wasn't something he could ignore.

"That's fine; you certainly don't need to decide today. As for your prior work at the school, it's that sort of hands-on experience which is critical for your education. I'll need to confer with the other administrators about exactly how many credits you'll receive, but I feel that the time you put in for the musical and with the glee club should be rewarded."

They sat silently for a moment; for Finn it was decidedly uncomfortable since he had no idea what was supposed to happen next. Ms. Allister, however, seemed quite content, smiling slyly with a distant look in her eyes.

"Music education has only been offered as a major for a few years," she went on, "which is why they brought me on to run the program and, hopefully, expand it. A student with your varied extracurricular background and demonstrated leadership abilities is truly a welcome addition to that effort." She paused, clearing her throat and looking down at his file on her desk, her voice evening as she spoke again. "Let me know about McKinley within a week or so, hmm? We'll need to get that course credit straightened out before you select your classes for next year. In the meantime, I'm here for whatever advice or guidance you may need."

"Uh, sure. Thanks." Finn stood and shook her hand before quickly making his escape. Opting for the stairs, he bounded down, content to return to his dorm room and indulge in some Halo and a nap.

He'd figure out how to approach Mr. Schue the next day, or maybe the one after that. Video games seemed to help him think when it came to dealing with people he wasn't on speaking terms with.

When he got downstairs to the lobby of the administrative building, though, he remembered what Kate Martin in admissions had said about possibly taking summer courses. He figured he might as well go back to Ms. Allister's and ask her about that instead of making a separate appointment to discuss it later on. He turned and dragged himself back up to the third floor and down the corridor towards her office.

"Yes, sir, he just left."

Finn stopped in his tracks upon hearing Ms. Allister's voice, presumably on the phone. Was she talking about him? Before he could turn the corner to get any closer, she continued speaking in a serious but slightly nervous tone.

"I agreed to give him retroactive credit for his work coaching the high school glee club last semester, as well as for this semester if he's able to continue assisting them. I realize it's a bit unconventional-"

_Yep, she's definitely talking about me_, he thought, and his heart started to pound.

"Look, Dean Elliot, we're lucky to have landed this young man in the first place. He could very well be studying at NYADA or UCLA or pursuing any number of other courses of study in the performing arts, but he's chosen-"

She was talking about him to the _dean_ of the education school? And she thought he was good enough to go to NYADA or UCLA?!

"I _do_ honestly believe that, sir; else I wouldn't have said it," she continued with utmost confidence in her voice. "Two years ago he wrote an original song that his glee club performed at the show choir national championship. And they _won_ last year's competition after he sang lead on their main number, complete with some difficult choreography. I also found a YouTube video featuring his impressive percussion skills. Add to that his leadership abilities, as described in a rave-review from McKinley High's football coach and a B+ average, and I can't imagine how a big-time music performance or education program didn't snap him up."

Finn exhaled slowly as he reviewed the events of their meeting and put the pieces together. Granted Ms. Allister was expecting him because of his appointment, but when he'd showed up at her office she knew _exactly_ who he was without asking him to confirm his identity. Apparently she'd done a full investigation into his experience - without letting on about it during their meeting - and considered him an important asset to the department.

"Thank you, sir," she continued. "It's an appropriate move given his qualifications. His choice to study music education with us should be nurtured and rewarded... if for no other reason than to keep him from running off to one of the big cities," she added with a laugh.

After that she concluded the call. Finn's head was spinning as he retreated back down the hallway and stairwell and to a bench outside in the quad. He wasn't sure whether to be freaked out by how much "research" she'd done on him or simply flattered that she thought so highly of his potential. Now that he was aware of her faith in him, her willingness to speak with the dean and pull strings to get him a leg up, he felt a great deal of pressure to deliver.

But he was also unnerved to discover he might well have been accepted to a big city school if he'd applied to more than just Pace. He'd never considered himself a good enough singer for NYADA or Julliard, but there were other schools he _could _have tried; NYU and Columbia immediately came to mind. Instead, he'd given up on himself before he even considered all of his options.

He really needed to think about everything he'd just learned. For now, though, he decided arranging for those free credits helping New Directions would be a good first step, and that meant talking to Mr. Schue as soon as possible.

**XXXXX**

"We have a problem."

He looked up from where he sat at the director's table in the auditorium, sheet music spread out before him and trying to figure out what songs might be best for Nationals. After patching things up with Mr. Schuester and buckling down to study for midterms, he'd been back with New Directions for the last two weeks as they prepared for their final competition. His mentor stood beside him with another batch of sheet music under his left arm while his right held his briefcase. The creases in his forehead were a dead giveaway that he was worried about something. "You just won Regionals and already there's a problem? What's up?" Finn asked, dropping the music in his hand.

"Ryder," Mr. Schuester said, putting his briefcase and music on the table before half sitting, one leg folded on the table while his other was on the floor still. "His mystery internet girl wasn't who he thought; someone in glee cat-fished him."

Finn blew out a breath between pursed lips. That would be rough on the poor kid. He remembered how excited Ryder had seemed making a connection with someone online. It was becoming more and more common for people to find romantic relationships on the internet, so Finn wasn't too concerned when he heard Ryder's story. But to find out it was all the work of a cat-fisher? "Does he know who?"

Mr. Schuester nodded as he loosened his tie. "Unique."

"Ouch," Finn winced, knowing full well there was already tension between Ryder and Unique from a several weeks prior. At the time, Ryder had steadfastly refused to acknowledge his glee mate as female. "How bad?"

"Ryder told me Regionals was his last glee appearance. He's quit."

"Aw, crap!" Finn's head rolled up to the back of his chair and stared at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his hands before exhaling loudly in frustration. "This isn't good. He's one of the best new voices we have."

His mentor held his hands up in surrender. "Preaching to the choir here, Finn. I was really happy to hear him when I got back because his singing style is so similar to yours. I was wondering how I'd do without someone to hit the high B." Mr. Schuester sighed and shrugged. "Well, guess we can still find out, though with Brittany gone, we're gonna have to do some recruiting before Nationals."

Finn chewed the inside of his cheek, considering their options. Finding one person might be possible, but two? They had less than three months before the big show, and chances of getting two decent singers to come into the group, learn the choreography, and be prepared for a national competition in such a short time were slim. It would be hard enough getting one. Finally, he shook his head. "I'll get him back, Mr. Schue."

The glee instructor cast him an unsure look. "Finn, you've already got a lot on your plate with college _and _the tire shop _and _helping here. You don't have time to chase around after moody high school kids changing their minds at the drop of a hat. Ryder-"

"I brought him into glee, Mr. Schue," Finn said, interrupting him and coming to his feet. "He wouldn't have even thought of _Grease _or New Directions if I hadn't gone to him. He also wouldn't know about his dyslexia or be friends with half the group now. "

Mr. Schuester gave Finn a measured look before slowly nodding. "Alright, if you're sure. I just don't want you to lose focus on your own goals, okay?"

"I won't. Promise." Finn shrugged. "But you didn't give up on me in my first year, Mr. Schue. I don't want to give up on him."

**XXXXX**

Echoes of rubber hitting wood, a brief pause, and then the tell-tale swish of a basketball dropping through a net told Finn all he needed to know. He rounded the corner into the gymnasium to see Ryder standing by himself, alone at one particular net, practicing his free throws. The kid reminded Finn a lot of himself, and now shared same look of pain and despair he imagined he possessed just a few of years ago. Approaching cautiously, he walked along the outside of the gym until he came just under the net where Ryder was practicing.

Ryder twisted quickly and threw another shot, the basketball sailing through the air to hit the backboard and bounce into the net. As soon as it dropped, Finn grabbed the ball. He tossed it from hand to hand with a smirk before looking back at the young teen. "You're pretty good, you know?"

"I practice free throws a lot. Kinda my specialty." Ryder shrugged.

Finn nodded and passed the ball back to him before taking off his hoodie and dropping it on the floor. "Mind if I join you?"

Ryder launched the ball into the air, sinking another shot, before looking over to him. "I already know what you're going to say."

"Really?" Finn's mouth twisted into an amused smile as he retrieved the ball. "That's awesome. Maybe you can help me figure out _how _to say it, too." He dribbled the ball once and then threw it, his shot careening off the rim of the basket and towards the gym's wall.

"I'm not going back," Ryder said, grabbing the ball from the wall and dribbling back on the court. "Not with him there...or her...or whatever Unique wants to be. I'm done." He fired another shot that caught the left side of the rim and dropped into the net.

Once more, Finn picked up the ball, also dribbling it back to a spot on the floor from which shooting would be easier. He turned and released, smiling when this shot swished right through the net without touching the rim. "So...she really hurt you, huh?"

"She humiliated me!" Ryder shouted across the gym, causing a few heads to turn. Seeing he accidentally drew attention to himself, Ryder took a deep breath to calm down, then snatched the ball away from where it was still bouncing. He walked over beside Finn and turned, aiming his next throw but keeping hold of the ball. "I told her everything. All my hopes and dreams, all my feelings, everything I've gone through this year. I thought I was connecting with someone. Instead I find out I'm just wasting my time and being used."

He fired another shot towards the net, but this one bounced off the backboard and back towards Finn's position without coming anywhere near the rim. Finn guessed it was because Ryder was angry and losing his focus. Quickly, he retrieved the ball and spun it a couple of times in his hands. "I get it, you know."

Ryder scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Everyone's been cat-fished by someone they think is their soul mate only to have their entire universe yanked out from under them; find out it was all a bunch of lies and no one bothered to tell you. I'm sure that happens to everyone around here."

Finn shrugged and bounced the ball in front of him. "It was a bit different," he admitted, twisting quickly to send a hook shot into the net. It too, missed its target, hitting the backboard and spinning towards the door this time. Ryder grabbed it in two bounces. "Sophomore year, though, I thought I got my girlfriend pregnant. Figured that was it - future's over. Just tattoo 'gas jockey' or 'grocery clerk' on my forehead, you know?"

He waited as Ryder lined up another throw, fired and watched as it bounced once between the rim and backboard before dropping into the net. He walked over and picked up the ball, wedging it between his right arm and his body as he continued. "I did everything I could for Quinn. Went to the ultrasound, lied my way into a job, gave all my money to her for bills, helped break the news to her parents, moved her in with me and my mom, started buying clothes and diapers." Finn shook his head and his eyes stared at the wall as he recalled those events. "I loved that little baby. I bawled like a child when Quinn said she wanted to give it up for adoption."

Ryder stood and stared at him, transfixed on his story. "So...what happened? Where's your kid now?"

Finn shrugged. "Wasn't my kid. It was Puck's. She actually slept with my best friend."

"_What?_" Ryder's eyes bugged out of his head and his mouth fell open. "You...you're girlfriend _lied_ about something that big?"

Nodding, Finn dribbled the basketball between his hands a couple of times before looking back at him. "I thought being a teenage dad was shocking, but finding out it wasn't even mine? That...I'd never been that angry before, you know? And everyone in glee, they all knew. None of them told me, though, except Rachel when she finally figured it out."

He threw the ball haphazardly into the air, somehow managing to sink it into the net without even really trying. The ball bounced under the net a few times, but Ryder was as like stone, still staring at Finn in shock and not moving a muscle.

"I quit glee, too," Finn said, answering Ryder's unvoiced question. "I didn't think I could go back, I was _so_ mad. Furious, really. Ten kids who all knew the truth but were afraid to tell me 'cause they needed me for Sectionals. They would have let me ruin my life just to win a competition. And the one who did tell me? She mostly did so I'd break up with my girlfriend and date her instead. I did for about two weeks, before that all went south, too."

Ryder's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But...I thought you and Rachel were engaged once?"

Finn chuckled. "That came _a lot _later, like two years after all this baby stuff. But Mr. Schue practically begged me to come back, reminded me how much I enjoyed it all. And, in the two years after, I wound up forgiving everyone. I mean, we were just kids, you know? Quinn was scared about her parents kicking her out, but she and her mom made up. Puck was afraid he'd never see his kid if he didn't keep quiet, but he's still sent updates by the adoptive mom, even visits now and then. Puck and I, after a really tense year or so, let all that shit wash under the bridge. Hell, he's my room-mate now at college. And Rachel...well, I fell so much in love with her I asked her to marry me. Sure, that didn't work like I wanted, but she's where she needs to be now. I kind of like to think I helped her get there."

Finn walked over and picked up the basketball from where it had stopped bouncing and come to rest against the wall. He passed it between his hands a few times before looking at Ryder and speaking again. "As pissed as you are right now, you love glee. You love to sing, and you're _good _at it. You're a way better dancer than I ever was, and your drumming is really coming along. Don't quit now just because Unique and the others made you mad. And don't _ever _give up what you love because of someone else. You do that, you lose a part of what makes you you, and there's no guarantee you'll get it back. Then you'll be living with 'what if' over your head, maybe for the rest of your life."

He bounce-passed the ball over to Ryder, who caught it effortlessly between his hands, staring at it afterwards and thinking about what he'd been told. Ryder was silent for a moment, rolling the ball between his hands. "What...what if no matter what, I make the wrong choice?" he asked, not looking up.

Finn walked by and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. "Be true to _yourself, _Ryder, and you'll make the right choice. It always works that way."

Ryder swallowed and exhaled slowly, still staring at the basketball he held. "How do you know?"

Finn smiled sadly. "Because I'm one of those guys that lives with 'what if' every day."

**XXXXX**

_Writing 101: Assignment 5  
Theme: Political Drama  
Purpose: Discuss how the politics of the time influenced the events depicted in the assigned play. _

Finn stared at his laptop, his head in his hand, trying to decide how best to approach this assignment. He had written a couple hundred words so far, but it wasn't really coming out the way he'd hoped. He'd read the play through, surprised he actually enjoyed it, but still didn't understand why this King Henry guy cared so much about getting Thomas More's approval. He was the freakin' King of England! He didn't need anyone's permission to do what he did. That's where the expression "It's good to be the king" came from, didn't it?

Sighing, Finn resigned himself to having to research Henry VIII on Google to comprehend this play. Maybe he'd see if he could find a cast recording online, too. Watching things unfold in front of him, with actors playing the parts, really helped him understand these plays a lot more. Kurt had introduced that technique to him when doing Shakespeare in his senior English class, and it had saved his marks from sliding too far. He smiled and fondly remembered...

Finn snapped himself awake suddenly, wondering for how long he'd drifted off. Thankfully, it was only a couple of minutes. Maybe he'd think better if he had some Coke. Puck had grabbed some on his last 'beer run' much to Finn's initial displeasure. He'd specifically asked from some light beer to keep in the little bar fridge of their dorm room, but Puck had gone all 'best friend' on him and insisted on Coke instead, deciding beer wouldn't be permitted until he was above a B minus in all his classes. Finn guessed this was payback for the all-nighters he insisted Puck go through last year to ensure he graduated high school, and Puck _loved _revenge. Sighing in frustration, he grabbed a red and white can, cracked it open and downed a big sip of the sugary drink. Sure enough, inside of thirty seconds, he could feel its effects.

His cell began to vibrate on the desk beside his computer. He glanced at the screen to see who could be calling him now. It was already well past nine, so no chance it would be his mom, Burt or Mr. Schue. One of the kids in New Directions might call at this hour, but it seemed unlikely since they'd see him again in a day or so. And he was pretty sure Kurt worked every night this week at Vogue.

He swallowed nervously at seeing the name flash between the vibrations.

_Rachel Berry_.

Drawing in a deep breath to prepare himself for the emotional onslaught he was about to endure, he swallowed once more and then pressed the accept button. "I know, I know. I said I'd call after midterms, but seriously, the work hasn't stopped and one of the guys went down at the tire shop so I was trying to cover him and-"

"Another call-back," she interrupted. He could hear the smile in her voice as she said it.

Finn stopped his rambling and grinned, sitting up a bit straighter. "That's...that's fantastic! I mean, that's three call-backs now, right?"

"I know!" Rachel practically cheered on the phone, her voice filled with joy. He couldn't stop smiling, just to hear the complete and utter happiness and pride she radiated, even through the phone. Finn heard her clapping her hands together in excitement as she laughed, and involuntarily pumped his fist quietly on his end. "Oh my God, Finn! This is _so exciting! _I'm only a year into studies at NYADA and really thought _Funny Girl_ was a long shot, but now it's _three call-backs! _And all of this for a real Broadway show!"

"That's totally awesome, Rach," Finn agreed, chuckling at her rambling. "I mean, I'd say I'm surprised, but I'm not really, you know? Your voice is just..." he stopped before trying to describe it. Even after all this time, all he had to do was watch a video or listen to a recording of her voice, and that same spot in his heart was once again touched in some unique way. It felt good knowing people in much higher echelons of opinion thought the same.

She was a star. There was no denying her. If it wasn't _Funny Girl_, it would be something else. One way or another, she would make it. Finn had no doubts about it at all.

"Finn," she said, coming down from her exuberance a bit. "This...this whole process...me and the Broadway audition...this is all because of you, you know."

He snorted. "Yeah, I'm the one who got up there and sang for you. Uh...no. You did this, Rach. All on your own, just like I knew you would."

She sighed and became quiet for a moment, as though collecting her thoughts. Finally, words tumbled out of her mouth. "I'd never have done it on my own, Finn. You...you're always there. In my thoughts, when I sing. You're there in my mind. I...don't think I could do this alone."

"You've got Kurt. And Santana. They look out for you."

"So do you," Rachel said, growing quiet. "I...I never thanked you for coming to New York, back when I didn't know about Brody. I..." she exhaled heavily. "I'm sorry, Finn. I messed up with him, and thought I could just mask everything _us_ and..."

"Sshhhhhh," Finn soothed her, heading off her tirade before tears began to well in her eyes. He knew that's where she'd head if he allowed her to beat herself up about it. "Rach, it's done, okay. You...you didn't know. And...it's over now, 'kay? All that stuff, last year, in October, during _Grease_...it's done." He smiled. "New chapter, right?"

There was quiet between them for a long moment, and Finn enjoyed the steady, familiar sound of her breathing on the other end. When they'd been together, he sometimes fell asleep listening to that sound on his cell phone, contentedly in love. Now...well, now it was different.

"Do..." Rachel began to speak before stopping, but in typical Rachel Berry fashion, charged ahead with her thought. "Do you think about us, Finn? Think...'what if'?"

He exhaled loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "Rach-"

"I do. I wonder, sometimes... all the time." He heard her swallow on his end of the phone. "I...I just wondered if you did too. Even just now and then?"

Finn clenched his jaw and wiped an errant tear he felt coming from his left eye. Remarkably, he held his voice more evenly that he expected. "Every day."

The quiet grew between them, and he heard a slightly shaky breath on her end. He knew if one of them started crying or seriously revisit this topic, though, it would be endless crying for her and insufferable heartache for him. Both of them knew how much the other loved them, and both knew it would take more than just love before they could be together again.

He needed to veer the topic away from them. Glancing over at his computer, he noticed his paper still sitting on the screen. "Hey Rach," he cleared his throat. "What do you know about _A Man for All Seasons_?"

"The play?" Rachel asked, her voice shifting from melancholy to curiosity. "Uh...it's an older play, non-musical, written by Robert Bolt and debuted on Broadway in November of 1961. It starred Paul Scofield and Leo McKern and its production ran for well over a year, giving Mr. Scofield a Tony award. Oh, also-"

Finn chuckled and interrupted her. "Not the Broadway production, Rach. The play itself. Like, I have a paper about the politics that influenced the events of the play. What happened? Why did King Henry care what Thomas More thought about his wife?"

"Oh, Finn," Rachel began, and Finn covered his mouth to silence his laughing at the disappointment in her voice. Obviously she wasn't impressed with his lack of knowledge on the subject. "The entire play is _about_ Thomas More. He was King Henry VIII's Chancellor when the King severed ties with the Roman Catholic Church. The problem was that More was a stout Catholic and didn't support that move, but he also refused to speak out against the king because he was the king's friend and loyal subject. He was caught in a classic Catch 22."

"A what?"

"A situation that had no winnable solution, Finn."

"Oh – you mean like a Kobyashi Maru?"

"A what?"

"Never mind," Finn dismissed the Star Trek reference with a small wave of his hand. _Wrong audience _Finn immediately thought; Rachel had never been into science fiction as much as he had. "Okay, so...Henry VIII didn't get a son from Catherine, so he wants to ditch her and be with this Anne chick, right? So...what's the problem? And why is More important in all this? I mean, Henry is king, right? Can't he just do what he wants?"

He heard Rachel draw in a deep breath and take a sip from some beverage before exhaling. "It's a good thing I don't have an early morning class tomorrow, Finn. Get comfortable; you're about to get a history lesson on early 16th century England."

As Rachel talked...and talked...and talked...and talked some more, astounding Finn with the amount of knowledge she had regarding this subject (he was no longer astounded with how _much_ she could talk) he dutifully took some notes and outlined some thoughts for his paper. But between the note taking and questions, a small smile crept into place at the thought that slowly, but surely, their friendship was getting back to normal. And if they could manage that, maybe the rest could be saved too, eventually.

**XXXXX**

"_He's a real Nowhere Man,  
Sitting in his nowhere land,  
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody.  
Doesn't have a point of view,  
Knows not where he's going to,  
Isn't he a bit like you and me?"_

Finn's voice echoed off the walls of the glass-enclosed shower at his parents' house. Not yet fully familiar with the lyrics, he hummed the next part of the song while rinsing off, then resumed singing the same verse as he stepped out on the bath mat and dried himself. He had to give Mr. Schuester credit for insisting on a Beatles assignment for the glee club. Sure, most of those songs could be considered 'oldies', but if it wasn't for the Fab Four many other famous musicians might never have been influenced or tried to pursue music themselves. And the sheer number of hits The Beatles cranked out in their day put many modern artists to shame. Finn was really looking forward to working with New Directions on this.

A knock at the door interrupted him. "Finn, honey? Is that you?"

"Yeah Mom, it's me," he answered. As he wrapped a towel around his waist he idly wondered if she'd expect someone else to be singing in her guest bathroom on a weekend evening. He quickly retreated to his room to throw on some clothes. When he stepped back out into the hallway, he found his mother putting clean sheets into the linen closet.

"I didn't think we'd ever see you again, what with all the fun you've been having at school and how busy you are with glee club and the tire shop," she remarked without looking up from her task, a teasing smile still gracing her features.

"Oh, I, uh, have a paper due Monday. Thought I'd work on it here and stay overnight," he explained quickly. "I know on-campus housing is kind of expensive, so I don't want to make this a habit, but this paper is important and Puck on weekends invites a lot of girls over and-"

"Finn, it's fine," Carole said with an easy smile, closing the closet and leaning up to kiss his cheek. "I'm very proud of how you're balancing school with your other commitments."

"Yeah, well, I figure if I'm gonna study and stay here in Lima, I really have no excuse not to buckle down and apply myself," he said with a half-hearted shrug.

Curious concern spread across Carole's face. "Why do you say that like it's such a bad thing?"

"What, buckling down? It's not, just-"

"No, that you're studying here in Lima."

"It's nothing," Finn said, straightening a hallway picture that was barely crooked to begin with. Carole raised an eyebrow at him, a clear sign she was expecting more detail. Sighing, Finn capitulated. "I recently met with the chair of the music ed department; she thinks I could have gotten into a performing arts program at a big-time school in New York or L.A. I'm glad she thinks so highly of me, but now I feel all this pressure to be, like, her star pupil or something...and I feel crappy about not having applied to any other schools. It feels kind of like I missed the boat. Like, maybe I could have gone out-of-state after all if I'd just applied to the right schools or programs.

Carole looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "I noticed you were singing the same part of 'Nowhere Man' over and over again."

Finn's eyes went wide with the sudden change of subject; his mom didn't normally do that during a conversation. "Yeah, Mr. Schue wants to do a Beatles assignment next week, so he asked me to start looking up some songs. That one got stuck in my head but I don't know all the lyrics yet."

"You should really look up the next verse, honey," Carole said with a smirk and a reassuring pat to his shoulder. "Dinner will be ready in about a half-hour. I'll set you a place," she called over her shoulder as she descended the stairs.

Finn squinted in confusion. Had his mother not heard him? He was under the gun trying to catch up on his schoolwork to justify Ms. Allister's faith in his abilities. More specifically, he needed to get a move on with his paper. It really wasn't the time to worry about song lyrics. He had lots of glee club rehearsals with which to do that.

Sitting down at his desk, he opened his laptop and pulled up the document containing the beginnings of his paper and notes he'd taken on the subject. He worked on it for a solid five minutes until his mother's suggestion overtook his thoughts, constantly echoing through his mind. Frustrated that he couldn't curb his curiosity, he finally surrendered and Googled the lyrics to Nowhere Man, focusing on the verse after the one he'd been singing.

_Nowhere Man, please listen,  
You don't know what you're missing,  
Nowhere Man, the world is at your command.  
He's as blind as he can be,  
Just sees what he wants to see,  
Nowhere Man can you see me at all?_

"Huh." Finn stared at the screen, reading the lyrics a few times to determine why his mother had drawn his attention to them. Was _he_ being the "Nowhere Man," closing himself off to opportunities the world might have to offer? Hadn't he applied to college for the exact opposite purpose?

Thinking back to his meeting with Ms. Allister, and the subsequent phone call he overheard, he returned to the Google home screen and stared at it for a long moment.

_Nowhere Man, the world is at your command._

Taking a deep breath, he typed "New York performing arts college" into the search bar and pressed enter.

* * *

**A/N - Ja9 and I discussed the minor controversy that followed the publication of the last chapter, and we thought we should address the issue. **

**Each chapter is thoroughly discussed, mapped out and approved by both of us before writing, editing, and publication. Every installment is a step in a story that itself has been mapped out in detail. To put it succinctly, if it's there on the screen in front of you, there's a reason for it. It may not be obvious, and it might not be revealed for another few chapters, but there's always a reason for the plot elements we choose to explore. **

**Neither of us believe that S5 would have been all happy Finchel times for our two lead characters, especially given Brad Falchuk's warning of "happy endings, not happy middles". There's a lot of work to be done to believably bring these two characters back from where we left them towards the end of S4, and as far as the canon it's likely that Finchel wouldn't have reunited romantically until very late S5 or beginning S6 at the earliest.**

**Having said that, we do also want to stress that we are writing (in our minds) the best story possible, twisting into the Glee universe male AND female points of view, some realism, and a touch of what we'd like to see because the show never gives it to us. Neither of us believe what is said or done on the show is necessarily going to be adhered to - they ignore themselves all the time, despite how pretty a speech might be or fantastically a scene plays out. If you need an example of this, try to find Finn's answer for what he sees when he kisses Rachel. We both felt that the endgame speech expressed Finn's belief for what would happen eventually, not what he was committing himself to from that moment on. In reality, he is a chiselled, good looking, single 19 year old surrounded by an awful lot of women at college, many of whom are just as hormonal as the boys. He has no idea when Rachel and he will be ready for each other. And although we didn't SEE him have casual relations with other girls on-screen during S4, the fact that he schemed those two girls out of their bikini tops in 4x19 is a clear indication that he was open to it; hence our exploration of that in the last chapter. **

**We understand what we write may not please some readers, and that our work, both individually and collaboratively, is not for everyone. If you can't continue with this story, we won't be offended. We will say, though, that between the two of us we have 36 stories about Finchel, 13 of which are multi-chapter. We may not be professional authors, but we both know how to spin a tale, and we promise to make this one the best we can. Trust us to tell a good story, and I don't think you'll be disappointed.**

**Thank you to all who subscribe and especially to those who review this story - we both really appreciate it. As always, reviews aren't just appreciated, they're encouraged! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer - See Chapter 1, if necessary.**

* * *

It really didn't matter which website he visited, the catalogue of requirements seemed insurmountable. Finn's mouth dropped a little at the list now displayed on his laptop screen.

_Application fee  
Pre-screening video  
Two letters of recommendation  
Resume and photo shoot  
Live audition  
Transcripts / Proof of High School diploma  
Proof of English language proficiency – Essay writing_

How the hell was he supposed to pull all that together? The letters of recommendation, resume and photograph were easy enough, as were the high school transcripts, but he didn't have a video of himself acting on stage, nor did he want to use the same audition material for another New York school that he had at Pace. And an essay? Sure he had to do one for Lima U, but it was a lot easier to tell them why he chose education than to do an essay on Shakespeare or that guy who wrote _Death of a Salesman_. Rachel never told him she had to submit all of this other stuff. He thought she just sang for that Carmen lady and that was it, done deal.

He bit the inside of his cheek and exhaled slowly, letting go of the temporary dream with which he'd been enamoured. Ms. Allister may have insisted he was capable to the dean, but upon looking at these requirements a performing arts college didn't seem to be in his future. He was good, just not exceptional to the level places like NYADA or Julliard demanded. And even if he did audition for one of these schools and was, by some miracle, accepted, he'd need to drop his education studies. He'd finally found something with which he was confident and really didn't want to abandon it, even on the off-chance he _might_ get into a New York school.

Unconsciously he pushed the laptop away from him on the table, collapsing back into his chair. His eyes took in the empty auditorium where he sat, a lone table and chair on stage facing the empty seats. Glancing around, he also noticed the soft glow of the basic stage lights, the black curtains, and the recently cleaned stage with a baby grand piano just a few meters away. Even after all this time, he still felt like this was his refuge - a sanctuary in which to hide, escape his troubles or think things through. The quiet of the empty hall was its own kind of noise; it was peaceful and serene, as though just waiting for the perfect song or performance to break it and bring an audience to its feet.

Finn idly wondered if it would ever be him doing that, or just his students who received the glory from now on? Could he accept that?

"Hello?"

Awoken from his contemplative thoughts, Finn's head snapped around to the sound of the familiar voice coming from the wings. He sat up a bit straighter. "Over here."

Out of the curtain's shadows rolled a wheelchair, Artie grinning as he sat primly on the seat with his trademark biker's gloves. Surprisingly, his shirt wasn't the normal dress shirt done up to the top button, but rather a long sleeve polo shirt with an open collar. It looked more casual, yet also more mature Finn thought, as though something had happened causing Artie to change how he looked.

Or maybe Finn was just imagining things. For all he knew, this was an old shirt Artie forgot was under his bed.

"You still working on our Nationals set list?" Artie teased him, wheeling over rapidly and then spinning to a perfect stop. "We only need nine songs, you know, and that's only if we get to the finals."

"I've never done this before," Finn said with a lopsided smile. "Mr. Schue and Rachel chose most of the music last year. _Paradise_ was only there because I mentioned it as a joke and they jumped on the idea. Who knew we'd win Nationals with a song about teenage sex."

"It was rather unconventional," Artie agreed with a nod, "but you've always had a knack for thinking outside the box. I mean, not many other glee advisors would suggest we hold practice outdoors in the snow, or in the locker room before basketball practice. Of course the last one didn't impress the girls very much."

"Locker rooms may smell bad, but the acoustics are awesome."

Artie and Finn shared a laugh before Artie pulled out an envelope between his leg and the arm of the wheelchair. Wordlessly, he handed it to Finn, who raised an inquisitive eyebrow before accepting it. "What's this?"

His friend smiled. "Just read it."

Shrugging, Finn pulled the letter from the already unsealed envelope and opened it with a flick of his wrist. He scanned the words on the page before feeling his lips pull into an all out beam. "You got in!"

"Brooklyn Academy of Film, baby!" Artie laughed as he raised his arms to cheer. Finn stood quickly as the two high-fived each other with both hands before Finn pulled him into a manly bear hug, nearly pulling Artie out of his seat. After laughing uproariously about Artie's good fortune, Finn carefully released him and made sure his friend was secure back in his chair. "I was really expecting to get a 'thanks but no thanks'. All I really had to give them was the Christmas special we did last year, but it was enough with my essay and marks to make the final cut."

"That's totally awesome, dude," Finn said, still standing and looking down at him with a huge smile. "Man, I'm so happy for you. And you get to hang out with Kurt, Santana and Rachel. I'm sure they'd take you into the loft, and they're right _in_ Brooklyn."

Arite scoffed at Finn's suggestion with a smile. "Puh-lease! You think dorm units are going to deny _me_? This is one of the few times I can totally play the wheelchair card. I get my own sweet room _and_ be on the ground floor." He snapped his fingers a couple of times across his face. "This dog ain't up for no four-way split when he can have his own bachelor pad, y'all!"

Finn laughed so hard from Artie's 'gangster' talk that he doubled over and fell back into his own chair. After their chuckles subsided and both boys wiped tears of mirth from their eyes, Artie looked at him fondly. "Really, Finn, I wanted to thank you. You've really encouraged and supported me this year, even when it felt like I was completely alone. I mean, with _Grease_, and then at Christmas, and the calendar when you stuck up for me – thanks for everything. It really means a lot to me."

Smiling, Finn shrugged off the thanks. "Pay me back by mentioning me in your first Oscar speech."

"Deal," Artie agreed, fist bumping his friend. He glanced over at the computer and his eyes went wide with surprise. "Hey, isn't that NYADA's website?"

Finn looked back over, frowning. The webpage shouldn't even be visible now. Hadn't he set his screen saver to kick in after two minutes? He'd have to check that. Instead, he pulled the laptop over and shrugged while closing it. "Yeah, just checking on admission requirements."

Artie nodded and turned back towards him. "Something for Blaine? Or Marley?"

"For me, actually," Finn answered before clearing his throat. He looked away uncomfortably. "Just wondered if I could have made it there after all. Chair of my department thought I could have if I'd tried last year, but after seeing what's needed, I'm pretty sure I'd have been turned away."

"Why?" Artie asked, wheeling a bit closer. "I mean, sure, you'll never get into the dance program, but you've got a good voice and you're great at acting. Remember when we talked to Emma's parents? You totally had them fooled, and you were just improvising. Guerrilla theatre at its finest!"

He snorted and shook his head. "Nah, teaching is where I belong. Helping others reach their dreams...I mean, I'm not good enough myself, but I can tell when others are. If I can get them out there, going after what they love, that's pretty good, I think."

Artie eyed him for a long moment before speaking. "You know, Finn, if you want to teach, that's great. You're good at it. But that doesn't mean you have to teach here in Lima. There're lots of other schools that need teachers, and I'm pretty sure New York has more than a few."

"You sound like Santana," Finn said as he rolled his eyes.

"Wow, really? No one's ever accused me of that, before." Artie mocked with a stoic face. "Didn't mean to pitch my voice to "insulting-Latina-beyotch'."

Finn rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way, I just meant last time I talked to her. She was kinda the first to know about me wanting to study education, and she told me I was dumb for not applying to schools in New York. I just...really didn't think I'd get anywhere with that. And with Lima U, I still get to see my friends _and_ help Mr. Schue. It's win-win."

"This year maybe, but what about next year? I mean, Sam, Tina, Blaine and I – we'll all be gone. I know you like Marley and Ryder and all, but you'll always be their teacher first. You okay with being the only one of us left?"

Sighing, Finn looked down at his lap where his hands now held a pen and were playing nervously with it. It was inevitable this would happen, he knew, though he'd put off thinking about it in favour of being busy with everything else. Puck would likely still be around, but though he managed to get into dorms, he wasn't officially a Lima U student and had no more ties to this city than Finn did. At any moment, Finn could literally be by himself, working towards his goal of teaching but having no one outside his elders to rely on. He was positive he would make new friends at college, but it wouldn't be the same as those forged over years of shared experiences.

"Someone was bound to stay, Artie," Finn said finally, tossing his pen on the table and putting his laptop into his bag. He stood up and regarded his friend before shrugging. "You guys deserve to get out of Lima. You worked hard for it. But my future is here; I'm okay with that."

**XXXXX**

Rachel stood in front of her open wardrobe, meticulously studying every article of clothing she owned. The need for a proper outfit to wear to her final callback for _Funny Girl_ the next day was pressing. Kurt would obviously insist on being consulted, but before he offered his opinion she wanted to get her own sense of which attire would make her feel most confident and relaxed.

Of course, this being the final frontier where auditions were concerned, she didn't think she'd be completely comfortable under any circumstances, but she could try. She'd treated herself to a long bubble bath and put on some quiet music, and she could feel the tension easing out of her tired muscles. Already she was feeling relaxed.

"AAAAHHH!"

The sound of her phone ringing disrupted her concentration, causing her to drop the simple yet sophisticated sweater-dress she'd been considering. _So much for being relaxed_, she thought as she ambled over to her nightstand to see who was calling.

The name displayed on the screen made her pulse quicken, but it was a different sort of apprehension than that brought on by her upcoming audition.

"Hello?" she answered, sitting tentatively on the edge of her bed.

"Hey Rach," Finn replied, his voice the same gentle tone he always used to sooth her through her moments of anxiety.

"Two calls in less than a week? To what do I owe the privilege?" she teased him.

"Oh, no reason," he said casually. "I just thought you might like to know I got an A-minus on my Writing 101 paper."

"Finn! That's wonderful!" Rachel's heart leapt at hearing the good news. She was overjoyed to know of his increasing successes in the collegiate setting, despite the pang of regret at the reminder it was occurring so far away.

"Yeah..." she heard him say quietly before his voice grew serious. "I couldn't have done it without your help."

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed, sitting back on her pillows. "You came up with the thesis yourself."

"Yeah, but if not for your explanation I never would have thought to write about the way politics can create conflicts between personal beliefs and loyalty to others," he explained. "I'd have written _something_, sure, but it would've been totally lame. So...thanks."

"You're welcome," she offered, content to put to rest the debate on the extent of her influence. "I'm quite happy to help you tap into the potential I always knew you had."

"Speaking of potential," Finn began, Rachel easily picturing his sly half-smirk, "are you nervous for tomorrow?"

Rachel exhaled. When Kurt or Santana or even her dads asked her the same question, she'd admit to being a little nervous but brush it off by insisting she had confidence in her preparation and faith in the audition process.

With Finn, though, she couldn't indulge in the same half-truth. "I'm terrified."

He made a noise indicating amusement and she hated how readily she pictured the look on his face. "You _must_ be, if you so easily admit it."

"I know," she laughed a little, rolling on her side and switching the phone to her other hand. "It feels like such a make-or-break moment, you know? And I realize that the polite thing to say is I'm happy to have made it this far and so on, but really if I don't get it I'll be crushed."

"It'd be disappointing, yeah, but you've done everything you can up to now. You do your best tomorrow, and if you don't get this part you'll get the next one. Remember what happened with NYADA? Your first audition didn't go so great-"

Rachel scoffed. "'Didn't go so great?' That's an understatement, Finn. Try 'unmitigated disaster!'"

"Whatever, my point is that you still found a way to get in, win the Winter Showcase, AND slay the evil dancing professor dragon. So maybe if you don't get this part it's because something better will come along." He paused. "What's that saying? 'You don't own anything until it's time?'"

Rachel laughed richly. Only Finn could mix up cliché sayings and still sound completely earnest about it. "I think you mean 'Everything in its own time.'"

"Yeah!" Finn exclaimed. "That's what I meant. These words of wisdom aren't my strong suit," he explained, sheepish.

"It's perfectly fine," she assured him, "and thanks. I appreciate the encouragement."

"Always," Finn said softly. "I've meant it every time I've told you - you're meant to be a star." She could hear his voice wavering and shaky. "And I'll always believe that, Rach, no matter what. Okay?"

Rachel closed her eyes, as it seemed the only way to stop the tears from coming. She wanted so badly for things to be different; for Finn to be there in New York with her, supporting her as her boyfriend or fiancé or husband instead of just over the phone as an old friend.

"Yeah," was all she could manage to say.

An awkward silence fell over the conversation following the emotional exchange.

The interlude was interrupted on Rachel's end by the sound of the loft door opening and closing.

"Um, well, I should go," she began, spurred on by the knowledge someone else was now in the apartment. "Still need to figure out a few outfit ideas before Kurt tears my closet apart... or makes me buy something new last-minute."

"Ugh, good luck with _that_," Finn chided. "And... break a leg," he added sincerely.

Rachel's stomach clenched at his words, thinking of the first time she'd said them to him and the response that followed. "Th-thank you," she managed softly before they hung up.

Holding the phone to her chest, she stared up at the ceiling, wondering if there would ever come a time when Finn didn't have such an effect on her and her heart.

"Talking to Frankenteen again?"

Rachel stiffened when Santana's voice interrupted her thoughts. Her first instinct was to respond defensively, but she knew it was no use. "It's that obvious, huh?" she asked, her tone resigned.

"Not much else gives you that pathetic lovesick expression," Santana pointed out, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "What is it this time?"

"I helped him with a paper a few days ago. He got an A-minus."

Santana's eyebrows went up. "So, Lurch _does_ have a brain. Guess we can cancel his appointment with the Wizard now."

Rachel merely smiled wistfully, causing Santana's face to fall. "This is good, right? He's in school, studying for a career he believes in, doing well..."

"Yes, but..." Rachel sighed, conflicted about giving voice to the thoughts occupying her mind. "I can't help but think he'd be equally successful and happy if he'd come here in the fall. He sold himself short thinking the army was the only option. He could have applied to more schools and started somewhere in the city this semester, just like he wound up doing in Lima."

"Maybe," Santana began, nodding thoughtfully. "But it wouldn't have been on his own terms, you know? You saw yourself how well _Grease_ turned out, and I saw him with the glee kids. The new batch of singing misfits worship the ground he walks on. Without that experience he wouldn't have realized he wanted to teach."

She smiled meekly again. "It wouldn't have happened the same way, of course, but he still could've realized all that... here, with me."

"How?" Santana asked, genuinely curious. She gestured out the window. "There some big city New York high school looking for giant, dopey, Midwestern volunteers to run their glee clubs? Rachel, be serious."

Rachel huffed out a breath of frustration and crossed her arms. She hated it when someone pointed out she was wrong, and this was no exception. Truth was, Finn probably _wouldn't_ have discovered he wanted to teach, unless it had come to him as an epiphany of some sort.

"It sucks," Santana agreed, still looking out the window. "I miss the big lug too, especially when I need to reach the top shelf of the cupboard. But this stuff happens for a reason, I think. We just have to move on."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Tried that – all it got me was Deuce Bigelow, male gigolo. Don't think I've ever failed so miserably in my life. And even after everything that's happened over the last year, I still can't shake the feeling Finn and I belong _together_. But with him staying in Lima the next four years it's getting harder to believe that'll happen. We've talked a lot lately and it definitely feels like we're friends again, but…what if he never has feelings for me beyond that because of the distance?"

"Yentl, trust me, that boy will _always_ have feelings you," the other girl insisted. "He got in his car thirty minutes after I called him about the need to confront that plastic boy-toy of yours. He just didn't want you to know about his involvement because he thought you'd see him as the crazy jealous ex."

Rachel sneered at that remark. "He _would_ think that about me."

"Point is, he's always wanted what's best for you, hence why he put you on the train and all that jazz. Now, though, he's finally realized he needs to do what's best for _him_, too. Crappy as that might be, if it involves going to school in Lima, we need to live with it for the time-being."

Rachel stared ahead absently, mulling her roommate's rather harsh conclusion. It made sense, though. Finn loved her enough to let her go for the sake of her dreams, and now it was her turn to accept that his destiny had taken him away from her.

"Wanna know a secret?" Santana's voice had softened as she scooted towards the head of Rachel's bed and lay down beside her.

Putting her own thoughts on hold, Rachel turned to her side to face Santana.

"I still wonder about Brit and I; whether at some point we'll be together again," Santana confided. "It's probably selfish, since I'm the one who ended things. I've no idea how long she'll be at MIT or where I'll wind up, whenever that is. But there's a Spanish proverb my Abuela used to say - _No por mucho madrugar, amanece más temprano__._ It translates roughly to 'Everything in its own time.'"

Recalling Finn's attempt to deliver the same wisdom about her callback, Rachel couldn't help but grin.

Meanwhile, Santana had paused, sighing dreamily and closing her eyes. "There's something poetic about that, don't you think?"

"Definitely," Rachel agreed.

**XXXXX**

Slogging through the door, Finn dropped his rucksack to the floor and shrugged himself out of his jacket, letting it fall where it may. It had been a long week, every evening occupied with either the tire shop, a late rehearsal readying for Nationals, or final papers and exams to submit. Thankfully a few of his professors had opted for 'take home' exams, easing the stress since all his materials were available as references, but that didn't make the workload any lighter. After going straight for six nights he had an evening that didn't involve any of his commitments. Saturday never had glee practice, the tire shop closed at 6:00 PM, and his next essay wasn't due until Wednesday. Finally he could allow his small dorm bed to swallow him under its blankets and cradle him to a peaceful slumber.

He dragged his sleep wear on and was just settling into bed when the door burst open, revealing his room-mate. Finn eyed him tiredly before giving him a small wave. "Hey Puck. Come to tuck me in?"

"Tuck you in?" Puck frowned and looked at his watch. "Dude, it's not even ten!"

"Awesome," Finn let out a huge yawn, putting his hand somewhere in the proximity of his mouth to try to be polite. "Goodnight." He let his head hit the pillow so that his consciousness might surrender to sleep peacefully.

"No, no no no no," Puck said quickly, waking his already half-asleep brain with shakes along his foot and lower leg. "You can't go to sleep. Little Puck needs you."

"Holy crap, I hope that's not what you're calling your johnson now." Finn sighed and rubbed his temples with one hand but leaned up on an elbow to see his friend better. "Are you gay? 'Cause I went through all this with Kurt years ago and-"

"Little Puck is Jake, ass-wipe! My brother from another mother? Shit, you've taught him all year and can't put two and two together?" Puck walked in and grabbed his wallet and keys. "He asked us to meet him."

"Now?" Finn asked in disbelief, checking the time. "Can't it wait? I'm gonna see them all on Monday. I'm really freakin' tired-"

"No can do, Baloo. Said they needed us asap! I swore a blood oath we'd meet them in twenty."

"A blood oath, huh?"

Puck sighed and rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, I'm being bribed with beer. Point is, he told me to make sure I bring you over there, and since I'm supposed to meet Malene at 11:00 to help her with her art assignment, that means we gotta go now and see what they want."

Finn groaned while rubbing his face with both hands before figuring that Puck was just stubborn enough to insist he go. Yeah, he could try to ignore his friend, but chances were slim Puck would leave without him. As much as he'd prefer to sleep, it seemed fate or life wasn't quite ready to let him have it. "This better be good, dude. I'm about ready to drop."

"Fuck, nap in the truck, okay? I don't care, just don't make me miss my appointment with Malene. She's Swedish, more flexible than a Slinky and can tie a cherry stem in a reef knot with her tongue. I'm not missing out on this."

Finn pulled off his sleep wear and began to pull on a pair of jeans and t-shirt. "Yeah, sounds like you're totally committed to helping her with her 'art'."

Puck shrugged and crossed his arms. "Her final assignment is to draw a nude model and she asked if I'd pose for her. I play my cards right, we'll be going through 'poses' all night long." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

"Uh huh," Finn grabbed a can of Coke from the bar fridge before pulling on his leather jacket again. "You're a kind and generous soul always willing to help those in need."

"I _hope_ she's in need - _and_ lets me help generously." Puck agreed as Finn walked out their dorm room, letting it lock close behind him. "And don't you talk. You were chatting up that girl in the common room pretty heavy the other night, offering to help 'change her oil' and all. You teach her how the dip stick works?"

Finn scoffed and waved his hand to silence his friend. It was only the second hook-up he'd had since starting college weeks ago, whereas Puck seemed to have a revolving door of women heading straight to his crotch every night. He was starting to worry that his friend had a medical condition which sent his libido into overdrive. Then again, this _was_ Puck, the same guy who got Quinn pregnant, scored with Santana at will, had an affair with a Breadstix waitress, and somehow managed to get into Shelby's pants last year, too. The dude definitely had a gift – or a curse.

"Why can't Jake just call me? Or text?" Finn asked as they exited the building into the cool spring air, heading for Puck's truck.

His room-mate shrugged. "Beats me? He just said they needed help and asked if we'd come by."

"They? So...it's not just Jake?" After climbing into the passenger side, Finn hurriedly fastened his safety belt.

"I dunno, maybe that Ryder pal of his tagged along." Puck said, slamming his seat belt into the buckle, starting his truck, shifting into gear and tearing out of the parking lot in under five seconds. "Didn't ask for details. Again, my bro said they needed help, I said okay."

"Much like Malene, it sounds like," Finn teased him, closing his eyes to take Puck's suggestion of a nap.

Puck veered wildly on the empty road, causing Finn's head to smack into the passenger door's window. He rubbed where his skull had connected with the glass and glared at his friend. "Fuck-tard!"

"You're welcome," Puck returned, flipping him off before sharply taking the next left turn through a yellow light.

Finn gave up on his idea of a nap. If Puck was going to drive this erratically, he'd need to stay alert and be an extra set of eyes for his friend. He really had no desire to get into an accident.

**XXXXX**

It didn't surprise Finn in the slightest the 'meeting place' was McKinley High. Nor did it surprise him to see another car on the road beside the school. Rule number one to breaking into McKinley after hours was to never park in the parking lot – a sure-fire way of letting police know someone was there. Instead, if one parked in front of the houses on the other side of the street, no suspicions would be raised. The second rule - which had already been followed, it seemed - was to blanket out the windows and hide your activities. No light, no suspicion. The third rule was to always use the choir room and _nothing else_ as it was insulated for sound. Provided one sealed all the doors and windows, and kept the volume to semi-reasonable levels, no one would be the wiser that people were inside the school itself.

Both he and Puck hopped out of the truck and strolled over to the doors closest to the choir room. Puck made a show of looking left and right, as though expecting someone had tailed them, and then knocked on the door with three quick raps. After a one second pause, he gave three slightly longer raps, followed by another pause of a second, and then three more quick knocks.

Finn raised his eyebrow. "Really? S.O.S.?"

Puck looked at him as if he'd sprouted a horn on his forehead. "Is that what that means? Just using the code Jake gave me."

Finn stifled a laugh and refrained from an eye-roll. He hadn't been in the army long, but he'd certainly learned the basic Morse code distress signal. As he heard the the door unlatch and swing open for them, he wondered where exactly Jake had learned it.

They stepped inside quickly and quietly so the Jake could shut the door. The younger Puckerman was grinning ear to ear and hugged his brother quickly. "You came. Thanks, bro."

"Of course," Puck said quickly before motioning towards Finn with his head, "but you better tell your T.A. why you hauled him down here. Poor bastard was in bed about to pass out."

Jake looked over to Finn in surprise, his eyebrows going high and his forehead creasing. "You were in bed? Dude, it's not even ten-thirty."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, shut up," Finn stretched a bit and held back another yawn. His fatigue was starting to set in again, despite Puck's scary-ass driving on the way over. "Puck said you needed help. Help with what? And why here?"

Jake turned and headed back to the choir room, gesturing with his hands as he did. "We needed the things in the choir room. Instruments, microphones, recording gear, that kind of stuff."

"Recording gear?" Finn stopped them all with an arm out in front of them. "Why are you guys recording? We already have recordings of all the arrangements we've chosen."

"Who said we're working on something that's been chosen?" Jake smirked and motioned with his head towards the choir room, disappearing behind its door while.

Puck and Finn stood out in the hallway for a moment, staring at the door before they glanced at each other in mutual surprise. "They're writing something original?" Finn asked.

His friend shrugged and walked over to the door, answering before he swung it open. "I thought originals at Nationals were off the table after 'The Kiss that Missed'."

"I know they did one at Regionals, but Mr. Schue didn't say anything about wanting more." Finn followed Puck into the choir room, noticing only Jake and Ryder seated there, an acoustic guitar plugged into an amplifier and a small drum machine between them.

Ryder's face and shoulders seemed to sag under fatigue, but his eyes were bright and full of excitement. He looked up to see Finn and Puck and smiled with obvious relief. "Thank God! Someone who knows how to do this."

"Hey!" Jake protested, slapping him on the shoulder. "We got something for the chorus. I'm trying, dude!"

"Yeah, trying my patience. This ain't a love song, Jake. I told you we should try it upbeat."

"I'll give you upbeat - upbeat across the head." Jake motioned with an empty hand to mimic slapping his friend on the back of his cranium. "It didn't work that way. The cadence of the lyrics was wrong." Ryder waved his friend's comment away with a shake of his head.

Finn bit back a smile to see his two students interact, wondering if this was how Mr. Schuester felt when he coached him and Puck on how to move in Accafellas. He was almost proud to have paired them together back in October during their superhero assignment because it looked like they were on the road to a life-long friendship. Hopefully they didn't decide to impregnate each other's girlfriends along the way.

Puck sighed and looked at his watch quickly before pulling off his jacket and tossing it into one of the nearby chairs. "Hey, Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber. Let's save the pillow talk for when you're alone and cuddling, okay? I have somewhere to be in ninety so if we're gonna help you with a song, let's get on with it." He looked around the room and then frowned. "By the way, where's my beer?"

Jake snorted. "You thought I was being serious? Hello, dumb-ass, I'm sixteen! How the hell am I supposed to buy beer?"

"You hang around 7-11 and wait until someone agrees to buy it for you. How do you call yourself a Puckerman and not know this?"

"Guess I missed that part in the Puckerman training manual. Is it in the same section as jacking an ATM, or the chapter about squatting in a Hollywood mansion?"

Also taking off his jacket, Finn threw his on another chair and held up a hand to still further discussion. "Guys, we'll be here all night if we start talking about dumb shit Puck's done, and won't make any headway. Let's focus."

He sat down beside Ryder. Puck saluted him with a middle finger before he turned a chair backwards to straddle it and leaned his arms on the back-rest. Holding out a hand, Ryder wordlessly passed FInn the lyrics so he could scan them.

As he read, Finn's eyes narrowed and he could feel his lips threatening to pull into a lopsided grin. He raised an eyebrow at Ryder once he was finished. "This come from our talk?"

Ryder shrugged and threw his hands up in the air, as though helpless. "I couldn't get the idea out of my head, and Jake was telling me how Marley was still writing songs even after Regionals. I just...thought I'd try it. I know it's not much but-"

"So?" Puck slapped Jake on the shoulder and motioned towards his guitar. "You dragged us down here. If there's no beer, let's at least hear what you've got."

Jake blew out a breath as he and Ryder looked at each other nervously. "We've only got the chorus, but...it sounds okay." He threw his guitar on his shoulder and nodded to Ryder. After counting in four beats, a soft guitar melody strummed through and Ryder sang quietly.

_I take the risks so nervous that I want to shout  
I don't know how I live being always so full of doubt  
But if I face my fears, with smiles and some cheer  
I'll see that maybe I can shift myself out of What-If gear. _

The guitar strummed to a gentle finish, and Ryder sighed, scratching his head. "I know it's not much, and it does sound kind of slow."

"That's kind of my fault." Jake explained, shrugging. "I've never tried to write music around words, though. The one time I wrote a song with Marley, the music was already figured out and the lyrics were written after."

Silence descended in the choir room for a moment. Puck and Finn exchanged a look, passing an unspoken message between them. The seed was there, but the two boys were going about it the wrong way. They both knew this song wouldn't work as a ballad.

After pursing his lips, Puck nodded and quickly stood from his seat, heading towards the musical instruments the back-up band kept in the choir room. He flipped a few switches on the amplifiers before turning towards them. "It needs work."

"Regular Albert Einstein, you are, bro," Jake quipped. "I've tried some different chords, but the guitar just doesn't seem to match it well."

"You're using the wrong guitar," Puck explained, throwing the band's electric one over his shoulder. "You guys are listening to so much Top 40, you're not thinking of other styles. We put a classic or hard rock spin on this, it could kick total ass." He pressed a couple of pedals, flipped a switch and then jammed on his instrument, pulling out a few electrically distorted guitar riffs.

Moving over to the drums, Finn sat down and reset them for his height. "Ryder _is_ right about needing to be faster, but not super fast. Needs a tempo similar to Don Henley's "Dirty Laundry."

"That could be cool!" Puck agreed, tuning his guitar up. "Maybe with a bit more drive, though. Five or ten b.p.m. above or whatever."

Jake and Ryder exchanged questioning glances before looking back at Finn and Puck. "Who's Don Henley?" they asked in unison.

Puck sighed and dropped his head in his hand. A slight groan escaped his lips before he gestured at the two younger boys while looking at Finn. "Shit, Finn, educate these kids on decent music, would you? Too much Ylvis and not enough Elvis, if you ask me."

Finn pointed a drum stick at his two students. "Next assignment is The Eagles, so go home and look them up on YouTube tomorrow." Both groaned a bit, but Finn ignored them, twirling the stick in his hand as he settled into position. "For now, though, we work on this one. Jake, grab an electric guitar. Ryder, take the mike. Let's remember we'll have to add in bass later."

After the boys all assumed their positions, Jake adjusting the strap of the other electric guitar and Ryder adjusting his microphone stand to the correct height, Finn and Puck grinned at each other and spoke in unison. "From the top."

**XXXXX**

"I need your help."

Mr. Schuester looked up from grading history quizzes at his classroom desk. Artie rolled towards him with a laptop computer perched on his lap. His face was stoic, set into a look of grim determination. Whatever Artie wanted, he obviously felt is was important. "You seem pretty fired up for a Monday morning, Artie. What's going on?" he asked, setting aside his papers.

Artie pulled up beside him and set the computer on the desk in front of his teacher. Once unfolded and turned on, Artie plugged a flash drive into the USB port and tapped a couple of keys. Instantly a McKinley High letterhead template flared to life on the screen. He turned to Mr. Schuester. "I need you to write a letter of recommendation."

Mr. Schue frowned in confusion. "Uh...didn't you already get accepted into that film school? Kitty told me in the parking lot that-"

"It's not for me, Mr. Schue," Artie explained as he tapped the mouse pad sensor on the laptop. Mr. Schuester saw a web page come on overtop the word processor, showing a list of requirements for acceptance into a school.

Mr. Schuester peered at it, thinking it seemed oddly familiar. Hadn't he looked at this same website last year?

Interrupting his thoughts, Artie suddenly pointed to one of the items on-screen before speaking again. "The letter's for Finn."

* * *

**A/N - We know this took a little longer to get out than normal, but hopefully you will all forgive us for that. Our outline was just figured out for the next chapter, so with any luck that won't take quite as long. Having said that, both our schedules have been busy the last few weeks, and we can't make any promises. **

**Again, thanks to all who read, subscribe and especially review this story of ours. We really are having a great time writing together, and it's equally fun to share it with all of you. **

**If anyone wants to discuss anything with either of us, feel free to contact us either here through PM or on our individual Tumblr accounts. I'm sure most of our readers are internet savvy and can find them if they want. Ja9, as always, it's a pleasure sharing this with you. **

**Reviews aren't just appreciated, they're encouraged. **:)


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer - See Chapter 1, if necessary. **

* * *

Staring out the window at over thirty thousand feet, Finn still couldn't get over the exhilaration air travel provided. He'd only gone on one other flight for Nationals, and that was back in 2011 to New York City. With Nationals in 2012 hosted by Chicago and only four hours away, it would have taken just as long to fly as it did to drive, so Mr. Schuester instead opted for a luxury bus line. The army had flown him to Georgia for basic training, sure, but he hadn't enjoyed that flight since the sting of letting Rachel go hadn't yet worn off, and after being released he did all his travelling by bus to save his cash.

He glanced around the plane to take in the others on this trip. Marley and Jake were, of course, seated together in the seats across from his, holding hands but refraining from any other displays of affection, seemingly content to both listen to their own iPods and merely be together physically. Ryder, Blaine and Tina were all sharing a row of seats, a card game going between them. Up ahead was Artie in the spot reserved for handicapped passengers, beside him Kitty who lately seemed to have taken a shining to him. Finn couldn't see the rest of the group but knew they were all somewhere on the plane, likely involved in their own activities to pass the time. He checked his watch to find they were still about ninety minutes away from their destination, so he turned to look out the window and let his thoughts drift.

Soaring above the clouds like this made him feel freer, perhaps a little lighter in his thoughts. Anything seemed possible. It was as though being lifted in the air brought a sense of renewal to his spirit, wherein once he landed a new world of opportunities would open themselves up to him. Life seemed full of possibilities again, and Finn smiled that finally, after an entire year, he'd come to the place all of his friends had been a year ago. It was satisfying to feel like he was catching up with them on his journey to adulthood.

Still, he was envious of the others in the group now on the way to Los Angeles. They had practiced and rehearsed and worked hard to get to the level they had, and were about to go onstage to try to win over three judges and a sold-out crowd. Finn loved being part of it all, but wasn't sure how he'd feel watching from the wings. He knew he'd put in just as many long hours as Mr. Schuester to prepare New Directions, but at the end of the day, they'd be onstage performing, not him. Those days were now over for him, with both football and glee club. He sighed quietly at the idea he'd let all that go.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned and glanced at Mr. Schuester beside him, who'd pulled out the set lists again. He pointed to the last list. "I've been thinking - we should put that new song in here."

Finn's eyes widened. "Really? You want to use an original in the final set? I mean, that'll rock if we make it that far, but there's no guarantee."

"There're no guarantees in _life_, Finn. But it's a really strong number, and lyrically dense. It would show our strength as a group to use it there because each verse would be another singer taking the lead, and by doing that, we could showcase all the new talent. Start with Ryder and Jake, then the guys sing the first chorus with the girls backing them. Second verse have Marley and Kitty, and then the second chorus have the girls sing with the guys backing them. Use Unique in the bridge, and then everyone comes in full strength on the last chorus."

He had to admit, it was a sound plan. The sophomores would love a chance to show their talents if they made it to the final round, fighting for Nationals. "Sure, sounds good." Finn nodded again and then turned back towards the window.

He could feel Mr. Schuester shifting uneasily beside him as he set his papers aside. "Something wrong, Finn?"

Finn shrugged before turning back. "Just a bit jealous, I think. Everyone here gets to go onstage and perform those songs; all I get to do is watch from the wings."

Mr. Schuester smiled and nodded. "I've been jealous of you guys since I came in and saw you six do _Don't Stop Believing_ back in '09. It's why I started Accafellas and really had to think about if I still wanted to teach when we went to New York two years ago. There's nothing really like the rush of being onstage and performing. I really didn't think I'd be offered a spot on Broadway by some producer. You've no idea how close I came to accepting it."

Finn turned to face him, attentive. "Why _didn't_ you, then? I mean, I'd have understood. A chance in the big leagues? That'd be awesome."

"Maybe," Mr. Schuester said, inclining his head in semi-agreement, "but it didn't make sense anymore. I'm in my mid-thirties, Finn. I don't have any real understanding of what's required for Broadway besides a good singing voice. I have no agent, no contacts, no publicist and no formal training. Besides, even at that point I was pretty settled in Lima with teaching and coaching you guys. And now, for better or for worse, my roots there are deeper; I'm married to Emma , both sets of parents live there, she's already tenured at McKinley, and I likely will be next year. Plus, we've been talking about starting a family. It's just too much for me to pick up, move and leave it all behind." Will looked at him seriously. "It's important you go after what you want when you're able, Finn. In my case, I thought that was Terri and marriage rather than show business, but it wasn't long after I started teaching I was wondering why I hadn't tried New York or L.A. first. That's why I think you made the right choice insisting Rachel move on to New York without you. And it took you a bit, but you seem to have a grip on what you want now, right?"

"Yeah, I think so," Finn said. He sighed and turned to the window, thinking of what his mentor had said, noting that all the reasons Mr. Schuester gave for not pursuing Broadway were reasons Finn didn't have for himself. As Artie had mentioned, his closest friends would be leaving Lima after this summer, his parents more often than not spent their time in Washington D.C. due to Burt's congressional commitments, and he'd already scrapped the marriage idea and pushed Rachel to New York to chase her own dreams.

All that was left for him after June was McKinley High and Lima U, but unlike everywhere else he'd gone, those two places made it clear they really _wanted_ him. Finn didn't have to figure out where home was. God, fate, karma or whatever it was that controlled his destiny made it clear Lima was his future. Barring some extreme stroke of luck that he would never expect, Finn was sure he'd stay in Lima for most of, if not all of his life.

It could be worse, of course. If he was still in the army, he could faced deployment to a war zone somewhere, or up in the Arctic. Finn smiled at the thought that now, several months later, he was actually _glad _he'd been discharged, where before it felt like he'd utterly failed. It was true what they said about hindsight – it really was 20/20.

He felt a bump on his arm and looked over to see Mr. Schuester holding a clipboard. "You need to sign some forms, Finn. You were so busy with your finals I didn't want to bug you with these before. They're just basic forms saying you agree to act as a responsible chaperone and all that stuff. You know, standard volunteer paperwork."

Finn grimaced, but nodded and took the clipboard, signing where marked without actually reading the papers therein. The forms looked kind of strange to him compared to other, similar forms he'd singed at McKinley, but he shrugged it off by figuring the National Show Choir Board probably had their forms he was also required to autograph. One thing he'd never understand in the modern-day of technology was the need to print and sign so many pieces of paper.

**XXXXX**

"All right guys, let's get started," Finn said to the half-dozen or so New Directions members sitting with him in the hotel lobby lounge area on Thursday afternoon.

Being defending champs had its advantages, including the fact that all top-ten finishers were entitled to a dress rehearsal in the performance space. As the previous year's winner, they even got to choose their rehearsal time. Will decided Friday morning would be ideal, leaving them the afternoon to work out any other kinks before taking the evening off in preparation for the competition on Saturday. It was a much more relaxed schedule than the year before when they weren't even seeded in the top ten. _Rank has its privileges_, Finn thought, the military saying leaping to mind suddenly.

Will had taken the soloists aside for more intensive (but still informal) run-through of their key numbers, leaving Finn to occupy the rest of the kids. His task involved going over comments and suggestions he and Will thought would be helpful, and Mr. Schuester suggested he keep them at least a half hour to make sure he covered all the finer points.

Once they settled down, Finn opened binder containing the entirety of sheet music they'd prepared with his notes scrawled on each opposite-facing page, and began going through the set.

"So, for preliminaries, we have Tina's solo. She's rehearsed Blondie's _Call Me _to death. More than anything she needs the guys to be strong in the back-up vocals. All of you make sure your tempo is solid. You're singing in the spaces she affords you, so make sure you're heard by the audience. Ladies, I know it's not much of a back-up role for you in that song, so take it easy and focus on your dancing.

"Blaine, as you know, chose _Don't Lose My Number_ by Phil Collins. It's upbeat and happy, and he's totally in his element singing it, so make sure you all have smiles plastered on your faces. Don't expect sympathy about your cheeks getting sore – you're talking to an ex-quarterback who once played a whole football game and then danced to _Single Ladies_ to win the game. Ladies, strong voices on this number. We pretty much need the opposite of _Call Me. _Guys, for this one, it'll be you focusing on the moves.

"Now, for the big finish, there's no real solo here, so make sure you guys are listening to each other and keeping track of the tempo. Poison might seem simple, but the cues between verses and the chorus for _Talk Dirty to Me_ aren't obvious. Make sure you count and listen to the guitar; that tells you everything you need to know. Oh, and make sure you all have your jackets _and _your wigs. You can't do 80's hair metal without the leather and hair.

"Well, I think that covers everything for this round." His mouth settled into a straight line for a beat. "I just wanna say that I'm really proud of you guys. We got a second chance after Sectionals and you've worked super hard to make the most of it. I have a good feeling about this weekend, but even if we don't finish in the top ten you guys have a lot to celebrate from this year."

He paused then, noticing Kitty rolling her eyes. Maybe he was getting too awkwardly sappy for the group and they were just being polite by not saying anything.

"So, like Mr. Schue said, we'll be meeting up for dinner at seven." Looking at his watch, he frowned. "I'm technically not supposed to let you go for another fifteen minutes... but I can trust you guys to stay out of trouble, right?"

Finn suddenly received a chorus of "Yeah" and "Of course" as the glee club members sprung out of the plush chairs and couches and began to scatter every which way. He felt momentarily insulted at being dismissed so readily, but figured if he was going to pursue teaching in high school, he'd better get used to this kind of reaction from his pupils.

As he reorganized his materials and packed them away in his messenger bag, Artie rolled up next to him. "We're gonna take the free shuttle down to The Grove, see what that scene is like here in 'La-La Land'," he said. "You wanna come with?"

"I wish, man," Finn lamented. "I still need to write my final paper for Intro Psych. It's not due 'til Monday at five but I know if I don't start on it now I won't look at it until late Monday morning, and that won't work."

Artie grimaced. "I suspect college will be a rude awakening after indulging my senioritis."

Finn had to suppress a laugh. If Artie had senioritis in spite of his Advanced Placement course load and near-perfect attendance record, Finn didn't want to know what _he'd _come down with during his senior year. (And that was _with_ Rachel's influence ensuring that he kept up with his schoolwork despite several missed classes and study hall periods.)

"You'll do great, I'm sure," he offered. "For now, go live it up. I'll be writing about the role the nervous system plays in memory and language recognition."

"Sounds nerve-wracking," Artie joked, causing Finn to chuckle. "We'll bring you a T-shirt or some other souvenir so you can at least pretend to have seen the sights during this trip."

"Thanks," Finn chuckle. "And, uh, just make sure you're back in time for curfew and don't do anything illegal and all that," he felt beholden to add due to his chaperoning responsibilities.

"It's all good, yo," Artie assured him as he rolled away to catch up with Sam, Joe, and Kitty.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder and stretching, Finn caught sight of the nearby Starbucks counter inside the hotel. He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that after the cross-country flight and meeting he was going to need a caffeine boost to make headway on his paper and avoid giving in to the urge to nap.

His relationship with coffee itself had turned a corner over the course of finals period as he needed something to get him through the long hours required to complete his take-home exams. He still found Starbucks intimidating, but he recently discovered that they served normal regular coffee and not just expensive drinks with foreign-sounding names.

After placing and receiving his usual order, Finn brought his cup to the condiments counter to add milk and sugar.

"Glad I'm not the only one lame enough to be chaperoning my old show choir to a competition during finals week."

He glanced up to his left to see a girl, likely about his own age, looking down as she poured half-and-half into an iced coffee. In addition to a bemused expression that matched her sarcastic tone, she was wearing a neon-pink Ramones t-shirt, black shorts, black patterned stockings, and black boots that came up almost to her knees. Her light-brown hair was relatively short but long enough to be seen underneath the black fedora atop her head.

Amused, Finn shrugged. "I get class credit for coaching, so I guess technically Nationals is just the final exam for my internship this semester." He grinned, quite satisfied with his analogy.

"Ah, I see," she responded, nodding slowly, "so I _am_ the only one lame enough to chaperone a team here without any real incentive."

Finn frowned, popping the lid off of his cup and reaching for whole milk instead of cream. "The satisfaction of helping kids perform isn't an incentive?"

"When it comes to the brats I'm stuck with? Not so much," she scoffed, her cynical response contrasting sharply with his sincere question. After a pause, her lip turned upwards in curiosity. "So, I have to ask," she began, stirring the milk in her iced coffee. "You weren't even a little worried, holding a performance-related meeting in the lobby of a hotel, where any of your competition could eavesdrop on your discussions of strategy?"

"Nah," he answered. "The competition starts in two days, set lists can't be changed, and our 'strategy' is simply to give the best performance we can. Meeting in secret didn't seem necessary."

"It's cute, the 'aw-shucks' Midwestern thing you have going," she offered, and he definitely caught a flash of lust in her black-lined blue eyes, fleeting as it might have been. "Nickel's worth of free advice? These L.A. judges are extremely discerning. Every detail counts, and killer instinct is important. Or maybe they don't teach that cutthroat competitiveness in... Illinois?" She replaced the top of her iced coffee cup and unwrapped a straw before dropping it into the centre slot of the lid. "It probably doesn't matter anyway, since the judges will likely favor the more over-the-top performances staged by East Coast and Southern California schools."

Finn held a neutral smile as he poured sugar from the glass shaker into his cup, unsure what to make of this outspoken girl he had just met. And "met" wasn't even the right word for it, really, since she'd simply started talking to him without any formal introduction. He didn't know whether to push back by arguing that the judges are from the same national pool the competition board always chooses from. He also could have pointed out that for years a Midwestern team - Vocal Adrenaline - had a stronghold on victory. And, of course, his biggest weapon involved informing her that his team had won the previous year and shouldn't be counted out because of geography.

But after her advice about competitiveness he decided instead to keep his cards close to his vest. "We're from Ohio, actually," he corrected, tossing his coffee stirrer in the trash.

"That's not the same as Illinois?" she deadpanned before a sly smile appeared on her face.

"If anything, Illinois is _much_ more interesting," he told her with an honest grin.

She chuckled, nodding slightly in approval of his self-effacing quip as she picked up her drink.

"Well, good luck to your team, _Ohio_," she said with a wink as she turned to walk away. "Oh, and if you're going to put that much sugar in your coffee, you might as well just have them add one of the flavored syrups. Vanilla is my favorite." With that she looked him up and down and raised her eyebrows flirtatiously while sipping from her straw and retreating across the hotel lobby.

Finn shook his head, slightly disbelieving of what had just happened. In some sense he felt like he'd been ambushed about his entire existence - glee club coaching strategy, place of origin, and coffee preferences. But as critical as the talkative stranger had been, she'd also clearly been flirting with him; he'd be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued. He assumed she was from an East Coast city, but otherwise was at a loss for determining anything about her. It was especially frustrating considering she'd read him like a book.

Unfortunately, though, he had a paper to write and couldn't afford to think about her anymore that afternoon. Groaning at the thought of the being stuck in his room for the next few hours, he turned towards the elevators and dragged himself across the lobby, away from the warm sun and enticing sounds of the city beyond the hotel's entrance.

**XXXXX**

Rachel beamed as she walked into the loft to see both of her room-mates bent over Santana's laptop computer, readying it to watch New Directions' performance. Since it was being held in Los Angeles this year in very modern theatres, each show caught on camera and then streamed online for anyone in the world to watch. It was the perfect way to cheer them on when not able to go in person. She quickly held up the items in her hands. "Look what I have."

Santana and Kurt both turned from the computer to see Rachel standing with a red t-shirt in each hand, both identical to the one she was wearing. On the front of the red shirt was the school crest, underneath the words 'McKinley High: New Directions'. The back had '2012 National Show Choir Champions' along with the list of names of each team member. "I bought some extras in different sizes last year. I thought it might be nice if we all could all wear one to show our solidarity in supporting New Directions." She tossed them each a shirt.

Neither Kurt nor Santana moved a muscle to catch them, and both shirts fell unceremoniously to the floor after hitting them in the face or chest. Kurt cast Rachel a look of disgust before retrieving the offending garment. "Rachel, I didn't wear mine _last _year; I only bought it for sentimental reasons. Look at it! It's candy-apple red. You know that colour does _not _go with my skin tone."

"Yeah, and besides which, they're dorky!" Santana picked up the one that hit her and held it aloft by the shoulders before sneering. "It's not even a woman's t-shirt. It's a men's small, which does nothing to show my curves or enhanced bodily assets. Why do you think mine went into my keepsake box right away?"

Rachel put her hands on her hips and stared hard at her two room-mates. "I'm ashamed of you both. Our mentor and former team-mate worked hard to bring New Directions back to Nationals. You two can't even be bothered to show your support by wearing our championship t-shirt now that they've made it back to the finals? Where's your team spirit and pride?"

"We're not part of their team anymore, Rachel." Kurt reminded her, throwing the t-shirt on the back of the couch. "Time to stop living in the past."

"Agreed," Santana said, dropping her shirt to the side before returning to her computer. "And besides which, they're dorky."

"You already said that." Kurt reminded her.

"Did I? Sorry. Oh, another reason not to wear them would be..._they're dorky_!"

Rachel huffed out a breath and crossed her arms. "Okay, fine. I didn't want to have to do this, but I will. Kurt, you do it for me, and your debt is paid."

"And what, pray tell, am I indebted to you for?" Kurt asked, half exasperated and half amused.

Rachel gave him a withering look. "Sophomore year. Cat-suit. You totally set me up and made me look like a fool in front of Finn."

Kurt's mouth dropped open in surprise. "You're going to hang that over my head _now_? That was almost four years ago!"

"Finn told me I looked like a sad clown hooker, Kurt. _Sad. Clown. Hooker!" _

Kurt rolled his eyes and held his hands up in surrender as Santana nearly fell over in peals of laughter. He pulled off his stylish name-brand sweater and then pulled on the McKinley High championship t-shirt, practically pouting the whole time. As he fell back into the couch, he pointed a warning finger at Rachel. "Don't try to pull this on me next year."

"Don't even try to pull it on me _this _year," Santana followed up quickly. "You've got nothing on me, Munchkin. I paid you back for all my wrong doings. I kept you from going topless in a dumb student film, got Plastic-Man out of your life _and _volunteered at that silly ballet show of yours."

"That was Kurt's ballet show. And you got a designer dress out of it."

"Whatever. Point is I owe you nothing."

Rachel sighed and nodded. "You're right. You're helped me a lot this year to make up for past transgressions. So...how about I take your next turn cleaning the bathroom." Santana raised an eyebrow at her and failed to move from her position on the couch. Rachel pursed her lips. "Two turns?"

"Deal," Santana agreed. She grabbed the t-shirt and walked to her curtained off 'room', pulling aside one of the sheets and then disappearing.

Kurt looked at Rachel in outrage. "You're willing to trade chores with Santana, but not me?"

"Cat-suit!" Rachel reiterated at Kurt with a glare before heading to the kitchen. Kurt scoffed but argued no further as she rustled through the cupboards to gather popcorn, pretzels and Doritos – all standard snacks consumed during movie night. Having a good grip on the bags, she hurried to the living room - such as it was – just in time to see Kurt clicking the video to expand across the entirety of the computer screen. Rachel plopped herself down beside him and handed him the Doritos while she nibbled on popcorn. "What is Santana doing?"

Right on cue, the curtain to her room slid aside and Santana walked in wearing her shirt. "Hopefully there won't be a tie-breaker round like we had to go through last year. This was the best I could do to make the shirt wearable, which is still barely adequate. Still needs to come off once they're finished." It was now modified with an obviously home-made, deep v-neck to reveal her cleavage. Rachel and Kurt stared at the large space cut into the shirt with, it appeared, a simple set of scissors. "What?" Santana asked impatiently. "You act like you've never seen a home-made alteration before."

"Oh, we have," Kurt said with disdain. "Just not one that screamed 'resident trailer ho!'"

Santana's mouth went agape and she backhanded Kurt across the shoulder. "Bitch."

Rachel giggled before pulling out her phone. "Okay, gather in. Picture time!"

"Oh, hell no!" Kurt said as both he and Santana leaned back a few inches from the camera's lens. "I agreed to wear this wretched piece of cloth, not be photographed in it."

She sighed and looked at her room-mates pleadingly. "Come on, guys. It's for Finn! We want to show we support him, right? I won't send it to anyone else, promise."

"But he, of course, will send it to _everyone_!" Santana complained. "You know Finn and his technology. Everything gets plastered everywhere; YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, mass emails. He'll probably download it to the show choir forums, too."

"For two people pursuing careers in entertainment, you're both horribly camera-shy," Rachel observed. "I'll even mark it as private, okay? Now come on, they'll be on soon and I want to send this before they start their set."

Groaning slightly – thought Rachel was sure she saw small smiles on both - she held her phone out the length of her arm. All three gathered close to fit in the shot and show their shirts. Kurt popped his towards the camera to display the words in full, and Santana leaned in a bit too far and squished her breasts together with her arms, but at least they were willing participants. With an electronic click and bright flash, the picture was taken and Rachel sent it on to Finn. Deciding to do a solo one of herself, she took one by the computer which onscreen displayed the streaming video of the empty stage New Directions would perform on. After snapping the shot, she sent it off to him with a simple text.

***We're watching! Break a leg!***

"Ugh! You're not seriously sending a picture to my brother showing us streaming this, are you?" Kurt asked with disdain. "That's horribly tacky, Rachel, and slightly Orwellian."

Rachel grinned as she popped some more popcorn in her mouth. "I guess it would be better coming from you, right? Then you could legitimately claim 'big brother is watching'."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Oh, God, she and Shamu _have_ been talking more lately. His sense of humour is rubbing off on her again."

Kurt snickered. "You didn't live in the same house as Finn last year. Trust me, I heard a lot more than just his sense of humour rubbing off on her."

"_Kurt_!" Rachel turned and swatted his shoulder, her eyes wide but her cheeks blushing furiously. It had only happened the one time, and both she and Finn thought the house was empty. How were they supposed to know Kurt had decided to take a nap at 1:30 in the afternoon on a Sunday? Rachel dropped the issue, however, when her phone blipped to indicate an incoming text. Opening it quickly, she saw a picture of Finn and Mr. Schuester with their heads close together, sitting in their designated audience seats and both smiling. Under the photo was his response.

**[Thanx! Got a surprise or 2 U might like. Stay 2ned!]**

She came around to the couch and grabbed another handful of popcorn before collapsing into the right side seat cushion. Kurt smoothly handed her a glass full of cola, and she drank greedily from it. Though she usually avoided the calorie laden, nutritionally vacant drinks, movie night wasn't the same if you didn't have soda-pop with your snacks, and the three of them had already agreed watching ND on live streaming would be treated exactly the same as movie night. "More surprises for us, apparently." Rachel said, setting her drink down on a coaster.

"Hopefully not as surprising as the animal theme they used for Round 2," Santana quipped.

Kurt spoke quickly over Santana's comment. "Come on now, credit where credit is due. None of us saw a _Rockin' Robin/Stray Cat Strut _mash-up coming. Putting those two together wasn't an easy task, I'm sure."

"And they did a great rendition of _The Lion Sleeps Tonight_," Rachel added. "It was so simple and pure. No instruments; just the group snapping fingers and singing in harmony. Perfection in direction."

"And then, of course, they finished with the biggest, most bombastic number possible. You're telling me it was totally legit to perform _Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy _and still make it to Round 3?" Santana scoffed. "Talk about blatantly pandering to the crowd."

Rachel and Kurt glanced at each other, both unsuccessfully suppressing giggles at the thought of the entire group throwing on a cowboy hat before Artie came out with a horse costume overtop of his wheelchair. Rachel suspected the inspiration for that number had come from Sam, an avid country music fan, who also sang lead with Blaine on the number. She was sure New Directions got through to the finals on strength of audience approval and not musicianship with that selection.

It was at that moment the speaker on the laptop boomed loudly to start the show. "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Round 3 of the National Show Choir Competition where the top five teams from across the nation will compete to see who will be crowned National Champions. We are now pleased now to present our first group. Appearing for the second time in the National Show Choir finals, the 2012 defending champions, from Lima, Ohio, William McKinley High School's _New Directions!_"

Kurt, Santana and Rachel all stood and gave a formal, polite golf clap before laughing and whooping out a cheer for them. Sure, they might be across the country, but it was the thought that counted, Rachel felt.

Surprising all of them, Rachel watched as one of the newer glee members, the kid who played Danny when McKinley did _Grease _in October, took the stage alone with a microphone. Usually the leads were either Blaine or Tina, which made sense to Rachel since they were now both seniors. She glanced at Santana questioningly before her room-mate spoke quickly. "Ryder."

Soon a funky guitar riff started over a mid-tempo drum beat, highlighted by punchy bass counter-rhythms. Rachel's eyes went wide as she glanced at Kurt and Santana, both of whom seemed equally surprised. "An original?" she mouthed quietly, causing both Kurt and Santana to shrug in response.

There was a pause in the music as a long guitar note was held over the count of two beats before Ryder raised the microphone to sing.

_What if I reach for the stars and get knocked to the ground  
What if my dreams and desires are discovered unsound  
What if my failure does nothing but drive me insane  
Can I survive this trek on such uneven terrain  
__B__reak free of this chain?_

His voice was so similar in tone and cadence to Finn's own, she could almost believe it was him singing instead of Ryder. Before Rachel realized it, the other new singer, "Jake" Santana informed her quickly, had jumped in from the wings to continue the verse.

_What if the people I know think I'm just wasting my time  
What if it's too much to handle and the fates don't align  
What if I can't believe I'll overcome all the odds  
Should I just pack it in, resign myself to the gods  
Continue this façade?_

The lights came up, showing all of New Directions suddenly onstage behind the two boys, the girls on a raised platform and singing in a back up role while the rest of the boys walked forward to join Ryder and Jake, their voices all blending in a powerful harmony to sing what Rachel figured was the chorus of the song.

_I'll have to take the risk not knowing how this plays out  
A nervous wreck I'm full of worry and self-doubt  
But if I face my fears, refuse to waste my years  
I'll answer "maybe can" and leave behind the What-If Man. _

Rachel's mouth dropped a little as she continued to watch the song. It was obvious Finn's fingerprints were all over this number. The last song he'd written expressed everything about him; he had indeed followed his own beliefs that a great song bared one's soul to the world. Just as _Pretending _had been a reflection of the love he'd carried in his heart - for her - this one acknowledged his journey to find himself over the last nine months. She shook her head in amazement that his emotions could be expressed so well in a three or four-minute song. Finn was more talented than even _he _gave himself credit for.

The two new girls in glee, Kitty and Marley according to Santana, were suddenly centre stage after some fancy stage manoeuvres that brought the ladies to the front and left the boys on the raised segment behind. Kitty sang the first section of the verse while Marley followed up with the second.

_What if I call you a friend and let you earn my trust  
What if I'm only ever worthy of your disgust  
What if I let you affect my fragile self-esteem  
Will you understand my insecurities?  
Lift me from my knees? _

_What if I try to love you and I bare my soul  
What if I open myself to being under control  
What if in my attempts to give you all that I am  
You crush my heart underfoot, and just don't give a damn  
Would you give a damn?_

As before, the chorus was suddenly joined by all the female members of New Directions, the guys this time signing back-up. Rachel couldn't help but beam at the way the group were enthusiastically sharing this song, and it didn't escape her notice the second chorus was slightly different from the first.

_I'll have to take the risk not knowing how this plays out  
A nervous wreck I'm full of worry and self-doubt  
But if I spread my wings, fight my way up this stream  
I'll answer "maybe can" and leave behind the What-If Man. _

As the bridge began, Rachel noticed both Santana and Kurt watching with open mouths and wide eyes. The song was more complex and lyrically dense than any of the other originals New Directions had sung in the past, and that they were using it in their final set at Nationals was even more shocking. Unlike when she and Finn did a duet in 2011, she rather hoped this one didn't involve two of their members locking lips and ruining everything.

Coming forward from the group was Unique, and Rachel beamed at seeing their foe from the year past have a chance to sing something solo for this competition, as well. Say what you will about the kid's gender issues, the voice he (or she) possessed was a show stopper, and proved no different during the bridge of their song.

_Don't want to live a life highlighted by compromise  
Don't want to endure the strife of a dream never realized  
Don't want to wait forever, be happy with whatever  
It may take some time, but I don't mind  
I'll leave those apprehensions behind_

Unique carried the note high and held it steady for the next four bars, overtop a brief guitar solo. The crowd at this point had all come to their feet to either clap in time, cheer and whistle at the talent on stage, or in a few cases, start head banging with the distorted guitar riffs. All three of them began laughing when they saw a couple of teens try to start a mosh pit in front of the aisles, only to be quickly dispersed and sent back to their seats by the venue's ushers. The entire group was front and centre and sang the chorus in a well-practiced harmonious wall of sound.

_I'll have to take the risk not knowing how this plays out  
A nervous wreck I'm full of worry and self-doubt  
But if I charge ahead, refuse to have regrets  
I'll answer "maybe can" and never be the What-If Man. _

The song came to a finish just a few bars after the last chorus, each of the members free-styling at certain points repeating the last line. On the last note, the supporting musicians did a big, showy finish typical of a rock concert and the crowd was on its feet. Rachel had never felt more proud of New Directions or Finn, and that included when she'd lead the group to Nationals the year earlier.

"Well," Kurt said, sipping his cola and replacing it on their coffee table before leaning back. "Any bets on what the other two songs will be?"

It was at that moment that the computer suddenly froze and the spinning circle indicating load time appeared. They waited patiently for the streaming to continue before suddenly the computer flashed a message with a typical computer ring sound. All three leaned in to read it.

CONNECTION LOST – NO SIGNAL

"_N__oooooooo__!_" all three whined, aghast. Santana instantly grabbed the mouse and began clicking the refresh button on-screen while Kurt and Rachel ran to their rooms to grab their own various units of technology. As both hurried back to see if their computers were similarly affected, Rachel could hear Santana screaming curses in Spanish.

She really hoped it wouldn't be too late to catch New Direction's final numbers.

**XXXXX**

Finn sighed in contentment, making his way across the hotel lobby after the team's victory dinner. The glee kids had all hurried off to celebrate further, but he wasn't much in the mood. He was thrilled for them, of course, and proud the work they'd all put in had paid off. For him, though, the win was bittersweet in contrast to the previous year's triumph. The fact Finn was there with the team in L.A. only served to emphasize that things hadn't turned out at all like he'd intended this last year. Sure he'd eventually had his own successes along the way, but that didn't stop him from remembering how it felt when he hoisted the Nationals trophy as co-captain, with Rachel beaming by his side and all their dreams seemingly ready to come true.

Besides, Artie had been right about the newer glee club members seeing him as a teacher first, and he didn't want to diminish the fun of the group's adventures by tagging along and bringing with him the presence of authority.

Will had gone out for drinks with a contact he'd met in Washington, extending an invite to Finn that he politely declined. He was perfectly happy to spend the evening proofreading his psych paper, catching some of the NBA playoffs on TV, and hitting the hay early.

"New Directions," a voice drawled, startling Finn when he reached the elevator bank, "the now two-time National Champion show choir from William McKinley High School."

By then a figure had stepped out of the shadows and Finn recognized her as the girl from Starbucks.

"You played dumb the other day, Ohio" she said with an amused half-smile, eying him from head to toe as she did at the end of their last encounter.

She was wearing the same black combat boots from the other day, with a short black pleated skirt and white sleeveless blouse bearing asymmetrical patterned ruffles across the chest. Without the fedora on her head Finn got a better look at the wavy light brown hair that came to the nape of her neck, and her eyes appeared an even more piercing shade of blue.

Before he could think of how to respond, she snickered. "God, are you so hopelessly wholesome you couldn't even properly brag about your team's success?"

"Not really," Finn explained, leaning casually against the wall with a sly grin. "More like my 'killer instinct' told me I'd better not show my hand."

"Ah, I see," she replied, nodding slowly in approval. "Glad to hear you have such an instinct after all. Although I figured that out after I saw your performance of _Paradise_."

Finn's eyebrows instinctively knitted together in curiosity.

"I asked around about the team from Ohio," the mystery girl began, "and was shown a video of New Directions' main number from last year's Nationals by a very enthusiastic middle-aged woman. Apparently she's some kind of show choir fiend who travels to the competition every year. She was very eager to discuss that particular performance."

Finn smiled wistfully. "It was a good one, yeah."

Mystery Girl snorted. "It's almost annoying, that Midwestern modesty. My new friend and I agreed the two leads were particularly phenomenal. She was able to tell me about the girl - Rachel someone-or-other, a certified singing dynamo who's now a freshman at NYADA. But, other than remarking that he seemed entirely smitten with Rachel, this woman didn't know anything about the male counterpart. And no one else amongst her show choir groupies could enlighten us, either."

With that she stepped forward, lightly tugging at one of his lapels. "You don't, by any chance, happen to have any information about him, do you?" she asked with a playful grin.

"I might, yeah," he began with a nod. "I'm just not sure I can share that information with a mysterious girl who dishes out advice about competitions and coffee without sharing anything about herself."

"That's fair," the girl agreed, biting her lip thoughtfully and looking at the ground. Finn could almost see the wheels of her mind turning as she considered what to say next.

"How about this?" she began after a pause. "I could really use a breather after this shit-show of a weekend. My team members are all running around the city trying to soak up life without parental supervision, and it looks like your team just did the same. I got this," she reached into her shoulder bag and revealed a bottle of Smirnoff, "at a liquor store that couldn't be bothered to card me. I obviously don't need the entire bottle for myself, so..." she let her voice trail off, the implied invitation hanging in the air.

Finn blew out a breath. Their flight home was pretty early the next day, and he was still desperate to recapture some of the sleep he'd given up in the preceding weeks. Then again, ND had just won Nationals. Even if he didn't want to celebrate with the team, he owed it to himself to indulge in some kind of celebration that evening. And maybe it was only because she seemed interested in him, but he was curious about this girl and eager for the distraction she might provide.

"Okay."

"Fantastic!" she exclaimed. "On one condition: no exchange of names or other identifying information."

He frowned, not expecting her to follow-up her invite with a catch. "Uh..."

"Come on, Ohio! You look like you're afraid I might eat you alive. Is my suggestion really that terrible?" she chided. "You're here, you're cute, and you and I are similarly situated, so we'll go to my room, shoot the shit for a while, and then... who knows? We'll never see each other again after tonight so why complicate it with personal crap?"

Finn sighed again. He hadn't exactly sworn off random hook-ups, but because he'd been so busy with finals and Nationals hadn't thought much about them lately, either. And there was always that lingering emptiness that a "no-strings" physical encounter left in its wake. At school he at least had the chance of seeing the girl again, acknowledging each other when they passed on the quad and possibly establishing a friendship or whatever.

Then again, this girl wasn't throwing herself at him the way the two at school had. She seemed a lot different from anyone he'd met in a long time, and mostly interested in company and conversation, regardless of her desire to keep things anonymous.

"Okay, _Starbucks_," he said slowly, causing her to grin at the chosen moniker. He quirked an eyebrow up. "But, uh... if we're not supposed to reveal 'identifying information', what'll we talk about?"

"Oh, I think we'll be just fine," she assured him, gesturing to the bottle again.

**XXXXX**

"Okay, okay," Starbucks said through giggles, sitting up and pouring another shot. "Would you rather be eaten alive by the snakes in _Raiders of the Lost Ark_, or squashed to death by the walls closing in, like that garbage compactor from _Star Wars_?"

"Oof!" Finn exclaimed, impressed by her knowledge of classic George Lucas movies as well as the difficulty of the question. They'd been going back and forth like this for a while, posing ridiculous trade-offs that had no chance of actually occurring in reality. It was carefree, relaxed and delightful escape from his usual thoughts, just as she'd promised.

"Walls closing in," he decided. "Getting squashed _has_ to be better than being torn apart by pythons or poisoned by snake venom."

"Fair enough," she nodded, taking a sip. "Your turn."

Finn took a drink from his own cup. Feeling bold, he asked, "What would you rather give up for a year - sex or chocolate?"

She pointed a finger at him. "That is _not_ fair!"

"You know what really isn't fair?" he asked, stretching out on the bed next to her. "This whole condition of yours. The ban on personal info? You _researched_ me. You know where I'm from and that I sing like Meatloaf."

"Yeah I researched you," she conceded. "But I knew where you were from before that, practically by looking at you. I didn't get so far as finding out your name or your favourite color or anything."

"Navy blue," he told her easily.

She swatted him on the shoulder and gave him a mock glare. "_No _personal info, remember?"

"But I still don't know _anything_ about you," he reminded her. "Except that you like vanilla iced coffee and can't choose between chocolate and sex."

"That's plenty personal! You should feel like we've known each other for years," she joked before her face fell. "I'm no one special, Ohio. Just a girl with nothing better to do than help out her old school's pathetic glee club," she added with an eye roll, pulling absently at a loose thread on her shirt.

Finn sat up a bit and studied her face. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the way her eyes were gleaming or the sense that she was also feeling a little bittersweet about her role as a chaperone, having made the jump from the carefree walls of high school to the harsher environment of college. After downing another shot, he shook his head. "Everyone's special somehow, Starbucks, even if you don't know it yet."

"Personal opinion, or more of that silly, earnest Midwestern philosophy?" she asked, lying down and gazing up at him with her bright blue eyes.

Finn was drawn in, and for whatever reason, cupping her chin and pulling her mouth to his came very easily. After a few seconds she parted her lips and probed his mouth with her pliant tongue. He leaned over and brought his other hand around her, pulling her closer as the kiss between them deepened. Her right hand came up to rest at his waist and she relaxed and exhaled breathily as he brought his hand under her shirt to stroke the skin along her back. Without thought, his lips moved around to plant small, soft kisses along her neck and under her ear, fingers tracing her spine, before he came back around to give her another open-mouthed kiss.

It took a half second for him to realize she was no longer responding.

Finn stopped and pulled back a couple of inches to look into her eyes. Both were closed and she lay on the pillow, peaceful and serene.

"Starbucks?" he whispered as he gently removed his hand from along her back and touched her shoulder. "You okay?'

All he received in response was a delicate snore as the hand she had placed on his hip fell away limply. Finn stared at her, astounded at the sudden turn of events. He was positive she'd been flashing lustful eyes at him all night, and in fact even suggested their evening might end on amorous terms. Now, instead, she lay on her bed sleeping peacefully, completely forgetting the guy she'd invited to her room.

Had he actually kissed the girl to sleep? Maybe she wasn't quite as enamoured with him as he'd thought.

Still, Finn couldn't help but quietly chuckle at the evening's outcome. After thinking about it for moment, he figured this would serve as a better memory. No sex to complicate things, no worries for him or her about contraceptives or spending the night spooning. They were just two strangers who shared a bottle of vodka, a carefree evening of meaningless discussions and a sweet kiss to end it all.

Sighing, he rolled off the bed, careful not to disturb her, and then threw the comforter on his side of the bed up and over to at least keep her warm. He checked his watch and figured since he was still up he might as well make a last check on all the rooms in which New Directions were staying. It wasn't curfew Finn was concerned with so much as boys and girls sharing rooms with each other where they shouldn't. He knew what happened at Nationals last year. Having partaken in illicit room sharing with Rachel, he wouldn't be as easily fooled by the students as Mr. Schuester and Coach Bieste were.

Smiling at the woman in the bed still snoring, he chuckled. "Thanks for the drinks, Starbucks," he murmured quietly before opening the door, exiting and heading for the stairs.

**XXXXX**

"Back to work already, huh?"

Poking his head out from behind the hood of a Cadillac Escalade, Finn saw Burt standing in the shop dressed once again in a suit and sipping a cup of coffee. He grinned at his step-father before pulling out the oil stick and wiping it clean. "What did you expect? Me doing cartwheels across the football field or something?"

Burt shook his head as Finn replaced the oil dip stick and then pulled it out again to get a correct reading. Once satisfied it was empty, he replaced the thin piece of metal and then grabbed the pump to fill up the engine with clean oil before Burt spoke again. "I just figured you'd take it easy this week, Finn. I mean, you're almost done this semester and McKinley's won another National title. Figured you'd just want to chill at our place or hang with Puck at dorms until your last exam is over, not come running back to work three days after you flew home. I could have rearranged the schedule."

Finn shrugged as he flipped the switch to start the pump. "You fly out tonight for more congress stuff, though. Someone's gotta run the shop."

"Enrico can manage for a few days. And funny enough, I saw a résumé on my desk last week when you were gone; someone wanting part-time employment." Burt gave him a sly smirk. "You know a kid named Ryder Lynn?"

He tried to keep the smile off his face, but was completely unsuccessful. Finn shrugged nonchalantly as he checked the oil readings, not looking at his step-dad. "Sounds familiar, I think."

"Good, because he listed you as one of his references. Tell him he can start as early as next Monday, if he wants. Start him on the basics; you know, oil, air filter and battery changes, removing tires. In the summer we'll take him full-time and get him up to speed on more complicated repairs." Burt checked his watch and sighed. "Gotta get going, I'm afraid, or I won't make the flight." Before he left, he held out his hand to Finn in a formal handshake. "I'm proud of you Finn. You've come a long way this year."

Finn's lopsided smile graced his features as he clasped his stepfather's hand. In a rare move, Burt pulled him to him and gave him a manly bear-hug, which Finn returned in kind. The two pulled away and nodded before Burt silently turned and walked, waving goodbye without looking back.

Instinctually, Finn turned off the oil pump just at the right moment and removed it, replacing the oil cap on the Escalade's engine. With a quick motion, he closed the hood of the vehicle and wiped his hands on the grease rag in his pocket as he thought about everything he'd gone through that year. True, it hadn't started well with a bullet going through his leg, followed by an aimless backpacking trip through Georgia, then a final, crushing break-up with Rachel. But now, things seemed on the right track. He was in school studying for a career he believed in, he was getting valuable, practical experience helping Mr. Schuester in New Directions, and had even re-established a friendship with the love of his life. It was still somewhat fragile, but it got a bit stronger every week as they exchanged more texts and made sure to talk every Sunday afternoon, even if it was only for a few minutes. Due to some production issues, there still hadn't been word on the outcome of her last _Funny Girl _audition, now in the final selection phase to see how well the top contenders interacted with each other on stage. She'd made him promise to always answer his phone if it was her calling. Any day now, he expected to hear one way or the other.

Seemingly in time with his thoughts, his cell phone blared to life, but the ring tone was that for unknown callers. Finn glanced at the number to notice a New York area code. Was Kurt, Santana or Rachel calling from a payphone or something? Shrugging, he pressed the accept button and brought the phone up, expecting to hear one of the three. "Hello?"

"Hello, am I speaking to a Mr. Finn Hudson, formerly of William McKinley High School?"

The voice was a man's baritone and had a southern accent, as though from Georgia or one of the Carolina states. Finn frowned and looked again at the number, but it was clear the area code was from New York City. Feeling apprehensive, Finn again placed the phone to his ear. "Yes, this is Finn Hudson. May I ask who's calling?"

"Mr. Hudson," the man began. "This is Mr. Bradley. I was calling you to discuss your application. May I say,young man, that your credentials are rather unique."

"Application?" Finn asked, confused. He scratched his head before crossing his free arm across his chest. "Application to where?"

"Why, Mr. Hudson, you jest. I like that. A sense of humour is important for the field you've applied to. But in the interest of succinctness, I'll clarify."

Finn's jaw nearly hit the floor and his eyes bulged when he heard the man's next words.

"This is August Bradley, Dean of Directing Studies, New York Academy for the Dramatic Arts."

* * *

**A/N - Once again, Ja9, I'm having an absolutely awesome time creating this tale with you. You outdid yourself on both the scenes you wrote and the suggestions you came up with for mine. I might never be able to write a story without at least consulting you first. **

**To our subscribers (and those who've just joined us) thank you for continuing to follow this tale of Glee, S5 "What-If". We really appreciate reviews as well, so please feel free to tell us what you think of the story. **

**Reviews aren't just appreciated, they're encouraged. :) **


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